RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 


RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

A   FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL 

BY 

J.  STANLEY  REEVE 

AUTHOR  OF  "  RHUBARB,  THE  DIARY  OF  A  GENTLEMAN'S  HUNTER" 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

BENJAMIN  CHEW 

M.F.H.  RADNOR,  1915-19X7 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PHOTOGRAPHS 
AND  SILHOUETTES  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


1921 


COPYRIGHT,    1921,    BY  J.  STANLEY  RBEVE 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


PREFACE 

AN  Arab  proverb  says,  "True  happiness  is  only  to  be 
found  in  two  places  —  on  the  back  of  a  horse  and  in  the 
arms  of  the  woman  you  love." 

Whether  this  happiness  is  divided  fifty-fifty  between 
the  horse  and  the  woman  is  rather  a  delicate  matter;  so  to 
save  the  feelings  of  the  ladies,  maybe  we  had  better  not 
discuss  it;  but  on  one  thing  we  will  all  agree,  including  the 
ladies,  and  that  is,  that  a  great  deal  of  happiness  has  been 
derived  from  the  back  of  a  horse. 

Foxhunting  and  hunting-journalism  are  two  quite  dif- 
ferent sports.  The  uninitiated  are  too  prone  to  picture 
hunting  as  largely  composed  of  elbows  and  legs,  broken 
bones,  scratched  noses,  and  love  affairs.  That  all  of  these 
do  exist  in  the  hunting-field,  I  will  admit;  but  think  for  a 
moment  of  the  other  benefits  to  be  derived.  They  are  so 
numerous,  it  would  be  folly  for  me  to  undertake  to  write 
them  down.  • 

Just  as  long  as  men  and  fair  women  have  red  blood  in 
their  veins  and  sporting  spirits,  hunting  will  continue;  but 
hunting-journalism  may  disappear  any  minute,  princi- 
pally owing  to  the  assassination  of  the  poor  journalists. 

They  say  it  is  always  a  mistake  to  apologize  for  one's 
efforts,  but  I  must;  and  I  offer  them  to  the  editors  of  The 
Tatler  and  The  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News  of  London,  for 
the  many  sayings  of  their  gifted  correspondents  that  I 
have  appropriated.  To  my  other  friends  —  well,  maybe 
they  won't  be  friends  after  they  read  these  humble  efforts; 
but  I  do  offer  my  most  sincere  thanks  to  Miss  Dorothy 
Mather  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Chew  for  their  kind  assistance. 

J.  S.  R. 


2021395 


CONTENTS 


SEASON  OF  1912-1913 

CUBBING 
OPENING  MEET 
2IST  NOVEMBER,  1912 
ANNUAL  MEETING 
STH  DECEMBER,  1912 
I7TH  DECEMBER,  1912 


3RD  FEBRUARY,  1913 
4TH  FEBRUARY,  1913 
I2TH  FEBRUARY,  1913 
2OTH  FEBRUARY,  1913 
2STH  FEBRUARY,  1913 
IST  MARCH,  1913 


Joint  Meet  with  Mr.  Kirk's 

Hounds 
C.  R.  Snowden,  Esq. 

A  cold  Lincoln's  Birthday 
Newtown  Square 


An  hour  and  fifty  minutes  from 

Waynesboro 
THE  LAST  OF  THE  SEASON 


SEASON  OF  1913-1914 


CUBBING 

HAPPY  CREEK  FARMS 
2OTH  DECEMBER,  1913 
23RD  DECEMBER,  1913 

3OTH  DECEMBER,  1913 
I7TH  JANUARY,  1914 
23RD  JANUARY,  1914 

27TH  JANUARY,  1914 
3RD  FEBRUARY,  1914 

3 IST  MARCH,  1914 


Mr.  Kirk's  Breakfast 

Sixty-five  minutes  from  Hershey's 

Mill 

At  Newtown  Square 
A  day  with  the  Brandywine 
With  Sen-ill's  Hounds  in  the  Rose 

Tree  Country 

From  Crum  Creek  Farm  to  West 

Chester 
A  good  vixen  saved  for  another 

day 


19 

20 
22 

24 
26 
27 

29 
30 

31 
32 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


SEASON  OF  1914-1915 
CUBBING 

THE  FIRST  BRYN  MAWR  HOUND  SHOW 
i8TH  NOVEMBER,  1914    A  run  with  the  Rose  Tree 
Out  of  quarantine 
A  trapped  fox  at  Crum  Creek 

Farm 

Fatal  accident  to  Mr.  Grange 
The  Bobbery  Pack 
One  of  the  best 


JANUARY,  1915 
I4TH  JANUARY,  1915 


i6rH  JANUARY,  1915 
22ND  FEBRUARY,  1915 
23  RD  MARCH,  1915 


SEASON  OF  1915-1916 


CUBBING 

4TH  DECEMBER,  1915 
I2TH  DECEMBER,  1915 
STH  JANUARY,  1916 
STH  FEBRUARY,  1916 
I2TH  FEBRUARY,  1916 

i  STH  MARCH,  1916 
23  RD  MARCH,  1916 
26TH  MARCH,  1916 

22ND  APRIL,  1916 


Mr.  Kirk's  Annual  Breakfast 
Mr.  Buckley  of  Erdenheim 
An  hour  and  twenty  minutes 
All  the  world  loves  a  lover 
Brandywine  and  Pickering  at 

Marshallton 

A  cold  day  from  Sugartown 
To  earth  in  Mr.  Brown's  drain 
The  last  of  the  Season  from  White 

Horse 
The  Happy  Creek  Race 


39 
40 
42 
43 

44 

45 
46 

48 


53 
54 
55 
59 
61 

62 
64 
65 

66 

68 


CUBBING 
2  IST  OCTOBER,  1916 
3OTH  SEPTEMBER,  1916 
24TH  OCTOBER,  1916 
IITH  NOVEMBER,  1916 
2OTH  NOVEMBER,  1916 
22ND  NOVEMBER,  1916 
23RD  NOVEMBER,  1916 
24TH  NOVEMBER,  1916 
26TH  DECEMBER,  1916 
4TH  JANUARY,  1917 


SEASON  OF  1916-1917 


71 

A  kill  in  the  open  73 

Cafe  au  Concourse  Hippique  75 

Alexander  Brown,  Esq.  76 

Louis  S.  Fiske,  Esq.  76 

The  Middlesex  at  White  Horse  76 

The  Middlesex  at  Bromall  78 

Don't  jump  that  gate!  79 

A  luncheon  to  Mr.  Higginson  80 

Two  hours  in  the  hills  82 
Four  and  a  quarter  miles  in 

twenty-seven  minutes  84 


9TH  JANUARY,  1917 
IOTH  JANUARY,  1917 
IITH  JANUARY,  1917 
2OTH  JANUARY,  1917 
IST  FEBRUARY,  1917 
22ND  FEBRUARY,  1917 
24TH  FEBRUARY,  1917 
3 IST  MARCH,  1917 
7TH  APRIL,  1917 
I4TH  APRIL,  1917 
2IST  APRIL,  1917 
I2TH  MAY,  1917 


CONTENTS 

Good  scent  everywhere 

Radnor  Hunt  Ball 

The  day  after 

The  love  feast 

The  Saportas'  fire 

The  Master's  Breakfast 

The  M.F.H.  Association  Dinner 

The  Border  Plate 

The  Horston  Cup 

The  Second  Race  at  Happy  Creek 

White  Marsh  Puppy  Show 

Cheshire  Puppy  Show 


SEASON  OF  1917-1918 
THE  ECONOMIES  OF  WAR  TIME 
JULIAN  C.  BIDDLE,  ESQ. 
3RD  SEPTEMBER,  1917      Cubbing 
IST  NOVEMBER,  1917 
IOTH  NOVEMBER,  1917 
24TH  NOVEMBER,  1917 
2£TH  NOVEMBER,  1917 
29TH  NOVEMBER,  1917 
6TH  FEBRUARY,  1918 
I4TH  FEBRUARY,  1918 
2ND  MARCH,  1918 


9TH  MARCH,  1918 
i8TH  MARCH,  1918 
3RD  APRIL,  1918 
27TH  APRIL,  1918 


IX 

84 

87 
90 

91 

94 
94 
96 

97 

97 
98 
98 

ICO 


A  War  Season  Opening  Meet 

No  scent 

Fifty  minutes  with  the  Cheshire 

Mr.  Clothier's  loss 

Thanksgiving  Day 

Frozen  up 

Mr.  Pig 

Two  hours  and  thirty-five  minutes  120 

A  run  with  the  Chester  Valley         121 

The  Boot  Hunt  and  a  lemon  pie      122 

Huntingdon  Valley  Race  Meeting   125 

The  Maryland  Hunt  Cup  125 


105 
107 
108 
in 

112 
112 
114 
114 
117 
118 


SEASON  OF  1918-1919 
THE  REMOUNT  TRAIN 

SEASON  OF  1919-1920 
IST  SEPTEMBER,  1919      Home  again 
i8TH  OCTOBER,  1919       Old  Square 
2OTH  OCTOBER,  1919       A  disappearing  fox 


129 


133 
135 
136 


CONTENTS 


25TH  OCTOBER,  1919 
STH  NOVEMBER,  1919 
I5TH  NOVEMBER,  1919 
22ND  NOVEMBER,  1919 


27TH  NOVEMBER,  1919 


29TH  NOVEMBER,  1919 


I3TH  DECEMBER,  1919 


~  »/ /  X        X 

27TH  DECEMBER,  1919 


I4TH  FEBRUARY,  1920 
l8ra  MARCH,  1920 
2OTH  MARCH,  1920 
23  RD  MARCH,  1920 

27TH  MARCH,  1920 
22ND  APRIL,  1920 
24TH  APRIL,  1920 


Rose  Tree  Race  Meet  137 

A  bye-day  139 

A  meet  at  Goshen  School  139 
An  hour  and  thirty-five  minutes 

from  Hershey's  Mill  141 

The  Fox  and  Hound  Club  143 
Radnor  Valley  Farm  Challenge 

Cup  144 

After  the  ball  146 

A  Waynesboro  fox  148 

Mr.  Kirk's  149 

Comedy  and  tragedy  152 

The  field  gets  left  153 
A  southerly  wind  and  a  cloudy 

sky  155 

An  hour  and  a  quarter  in  the  mud  156 

A  seven  mile  point  158 

Brookthorpe  to  Mr.  Brown's  158 
A  gallop  from  Bartholomew's 

Wood  1 60 

An  eight  and  a  half  mile  point  161 

Sunnybrook  Farm  163 

Maryland  Hunt  Cup  164 


SEASON  OF  1920-1921 


CUBBING 

9TH  OCTOBER,  1920 
2 IST  OCTOBER,  1920 
23RD  OCTOBER,  1920 
3OTH  OCTOBER,  1920 
6TH  NOVEMBER,  1920 
IITH  NOVEMBER,  1920 
I5TH,  i8TH,  I9TH  NO- 
VEMBER, 1920 
24TH  NOVEMBER,  1920 
25TH  NOVEMBER,  1920 
27TH  NOVEMBER,  1920 
i8TH  DECEMBER,  1920 


Man  O'War 

Foxhall  Farm  Cup 

Opening  Day 

Snakehouse  Wood  to  Castle  Rock 

Two  days  with  the  Cheshire  and 

one  with  the  Brandywine 
A  bye-day 
Thanksgiving  Day 
A  Meet  at  Kelso 
South  of  the  Pike 


169 
170 
171 
172 
177 
179 
180 

182 
184 
1 85 
187 
189 


CONTENTS 


28rH  DECEMBER,  1920 
3<DTH  DECEMBER,  1920 
4TH  JANUARY,  1921 
29TH  JANUARY,  1921 
3RD  FEBRUARY,  1921 
NLMROD 


"Seven-to-One" 
A  Rose  Tree  Hunt  supper 
The  death  of  "Lucy  Glitters1 
Delchester  to  Temple  Hill 
Radnor  and  Rose  Tree 


191 
193 
195 
197 
199 

202 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

WILL  LEVERTON  AND  THE  RADNOR  HOUNDS    Frontispiece 
WILL  LEVERTON  AND  FRANK.  SMITH  4 

RADNOR    HOUNDS  —  THE    WINNING    HALF-BRED 
PACK  AT  THE  BRYN  MAWR  HOUND  SHOW,  1915          20 

MRS.  JOHN  R.  VALENTINE  ON  "FAILIAN"  32 

A.  HENRY  HIGGINSON,  ESQ.,  WITH  HIS  WINNING 
PACK  OF  FIVE  COUPLES  OF  ENGLISH  HOUNDS  40 

HORACE  B.  HARE,  ESQ.,  M.F.H.  48 

BENJAMIN  CHEW,  ESQ.,  M.F.H.,  ON  "OVIAT"  AND 
J.  STANLEY  REEVE,  ESQ.,  ON  "POACHER"  54 

MRS.  HOWARD  H.   HENRY  AND   MRS.   A.   J.   A. 

DEVEREUX  58 

RADNOR  HOUNDS  AT  THE  BRYN  MAWR  HOUND 

SHOW,  1916  76 

RADNOR  HOUNDS  AT  WHITE  HORSE  82 

EDWARD  C.  DALE,  ESQ.  106 

THE  Six  GREYS  114 

Mrs.  Paul  Denckla  Mills  on  "Grey  Cloud,"  Mrs.  Charles 
A.  Munn  on  "Peter  Grey,"  Mrs.  A.  J.  Antelo  Devereux 
on  "Happy  Boots,"  Harry  Ramsey,  First  Whip,  on  "Dave 
Waller,"  W.  Plunket  Stewart,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,  on  "  Water 
Wagon,"  and  Harry  Brown,  Huntsman,  on  "Greymaster" 

MRS.  EDWARD  H.  CARLE,  ON  "GERMOND"  118 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

MRS.  WALTER  M.  JEFFORDS  RECEIVING  THE  PLATE 

OFFERED  BY  THE  MASTERS  OF  FOXHOUNDS  ASSO- 
CIATION FOR  BEST  FIVE  COUPLES  OF  AMERICAN 
HOUNDS  138 

RADNOR  HUNT  —  THANKSGIVING  DAY,  1919  144 

Patrol  Judges:  Messrs.  J.  Stanley  Reeve,  Walter  Stokes, 
Charles  A.  Munn,  W.  Plunket  Stewart,  Francis  V.  Lloyd, 
Rowland  Comly,  Gardner  Cassatt,  Robert  E.  Straw- 
bridge,  Jr. 

Miss  EUGENIA  KELSO  CASSATT  AND  HENRY  C. 

BARCLAY,  ESQ.  1 60 

R.  CLIFTON  LISLE,  ESQ.;  Miss  GERTRUDE  S. 
HECKSHER;  ROBERT  E.  BROOKS,  ESQ.  172 

CHESHIRE  FOXHOUNDS — W.  P.  STEWART,  ESQ., 
M.F.H.  182 

Miss  GERTRUDE  S.  HECKSHER  ON  "SATURNUS"  192 

Miss  ELLEN  MARY  CASSATT  ON  "SEVEN-TO-ONE"       192 


INTRODUCTION 
BY  BENJAMIN  CHEW 

M.F.H.  RADNOR,  1915-1917 

IT  takes  the  perspective  of  time  to  write  history.  It  takes 
still  more  time  and  the  increasing  perspective  for  us  to 
read  history;  especially  to  read  it  with  a  seeing  and  un- 
biased mind  and  to  appreciate  the  values  which  only  the 
perspective  of  time  can  bring  before  our  mental  vision. 

It  may  seem  that  to  class  the  following  record  as  history 
is  to  bring  it  into  too  great  importance.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
a  part  of  the  history  of  our  country  and  of  our  civilization. 
It  records  a  phase  of  life  which  has  much  to  do  with  the 
racial  consciousness  of  our  people.  Would  that  its  influ- 
ence had  been  greater  and  more  widespread  in  this  great 
land  of  ours! 

Sport  is  one  of  the  links  of  heredity  which  has  come  to  us 
from  our  British  forbears;  sport  being  the  lighter  visible 
sign  of  our  finer  inherited  qualities:  energy,  fair  play, 
manhood  in  the  best  sense;  justice,  honesty,  and  observa- 
tion; love  of  the  land  and  of  the  great  outdoors;  all  are  ex- 
pressed in  and  developed  by  sport.  More  especially  by 
foxhunting;  let  us  not  say  the  "Sport  of  Kings,"  but  the 
King  of  Sports. 

Foxhunting  has  flourished  in  this  country  of  ours  for 
two  hundred  years;  not  fostered  by  the  rich,  but  main- 
tained and  loved  by  the  plain  men  of  the  land,  the  men 
who,  when  times  of  strife  stirred  the  land,  were  the  first  to 
answer  the  call  of  the  land  and  leave  their  homes  and  fami- 
lies and  give  themselves,  their  hopes  and  joys  and  goods, 
to  the  service  of  their  country;  and  can  we  but  feel  sure 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

that  they  were  better  fitted,  mentally,  morally  and  physi- 
cally, by  their  days  with  the  hounds,  their  long  days  in  the 
open,  where  clean  living,  courage,  endurance,  patience, 
and  understanding  are  needed  in  the  making  of  a  good 
foxhunter? 

If  we  look  back  in  the  pages  of  our  local  history,  we  find 
that  the  members  of  the  Gloucester  Foxhunting  Club, 
most  of  whom  were  members  of  the  Old  State  in  Schuyl- 
kill,  the  oldest  club  in  the  world  with  a  continuous  exist- 
ence, formed,  in  the  early  days  of  the  Revolution,  the  now 
famous  First  Troop,  Philadelphia  City  Cavalry,  which  has 
distinguished  itself  in  every  war  in  which  this  country  has 
ever  engaged. 

A  great  majority  of  its  members  have  been  good  fox- 
hunters,  and  the  lessons  of  the  hunting-field  have  been 
useful  without  doubt  in  camp  and  field  of  battle. 

Therefore,  I  feel  sure  that  the  following  simple  record  of 
a  few  years  of  the  sport  of  a  representative  American 
Hunt,  cannot  be  amiss,  and  that  in  the  long  annals  of  our 
glorious  country  this  little  side-light  into  our  "manners 
and  customs,"  as  Caesar  would  say,  will  be  not  only  appre- 
ciated by  those  whose  names  figure  in  its  pages  and  who 
will  read  with  personal  pleasure;  but  will  in  years  to  come 
bring  pleasure  to  another  generation  and  shed  a  light  for 
them  upon  a  not  unimportant  phase  of  our  lives. 

The  increase  of  the  motor  in  all  branches  of  transporta- 
tion, and  even  in  the  realms  of  agriculture,  seems  to  indi- 
cate the  gradual  elimination  of  the  horse,  and  it  may  well 
be  —  indeed  is  not  improbable  —  that  in  another  genera- 
tion or  so  the  breeding  of  horses,  especially  in  this  part  of 
the  country,  to  a  great  extent,  if  not  entirely,  will  be 
abandoned,  and  that  foxes  and  foxhunting  will  be  come  a 
thing  of  the  past.  It  is  in  those  days  that  this  record  will 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

be  read  and  valued  and  will  give  to  those  generations  to 
come  some  idea  of  the  joyous  days  so  much  appreciated  by 
their  forbears. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  a  man  or  woman  who  has  hunted 
the  fox  honestly  and  courageously  has  never  but  benefited 
from  his  or  her  experience. 

The  many  occasions  on  which  he  or  she  has  conquered 
self,  be  it  in  early  rising  when  laziness  is  overcome,  be  it  in 
overcoming  fear  when  the  rasper  is  faced  with  pluck  de- 
spite good  excuses  for  taking  the  gap,  or  be  it  in  the  ex- 
ertion of  self-control  and  expression  of  courtesy,  which 
should  always  be  the  rule  in  the  hunting-field  —  these 
many  opportunities  of  self-mastery,  are  they  to  be  de- 
spised in  the  building-up  of  the  character  of  our  race? 
Surely,  no!  And,  therefore,  I  feel  sure  that  this  hunting 
record  cannot  but  be  of  a  certain  value  in  its  modest  way, 
as  part  of  the  history  of  our  times. 

The  honesty  and  simplicity  with  which  it  has  been  writ- 
ten is  not  the  least  of  its  charms  and  is  one  of  its  greatest 
values  for  the  future,  as  no  one  can  fail  to  recognize  the 
sincerity  of  the  writer. 


RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 
SEASON  OF  1912-1913 


RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 


SEASON  OF  1912-1913 

CUB-HUNTING  in  1912  did  not  commence  until  the  2d  of 
October,  when  for  a  fortnight  hounds  showed  very  good 
sport;  foxes  being  plentiful  and  scent  very  good;  although 
the  country  was  quite  blind  until  the  middle  of  the  month, 
when  we  had  a  protracted  dry  spell  and  hounds  had  great 
difficulty  in  carrying  a  line  for  any  length  of  time;  but, 
fortunately,  it  rained  just  before  the  opening  of  the  regu- 
lar season  and  scenting  conditions  improved  wonderfully. 

Charles  C.  Harrison,  Esq.,  gave  his  annual  breakfast 
before  the  opening  meet  at  Happy  Creek  Farms,  and  a 
large  and  representative  field  turned  out,  with  Horace 
Binney  Hare,  M.F.H.,  and  Will  Davis  hunting  a  mixed 
pack  of  seventeen  and  a  half  couples. 

The  first  draw  was  Mr.  Harrison's  meadows,  where  a 
fox  went  away  at  once,  giving  the  field  a  nice  gallop  to- 
wards Wyola,  then  swinging  back  again,  hounds  marking 
their  fox  to  earth  in  Mr.  John  Brown's  drain,  after  fifteen 
minutes  of  very  pretty  work. 

After  several  vain  attempts  to  bolt  the  fox,  Harry  Harri- 
son sent  home  for  his  dachshund,  but  the  excitement  was 
too  much  for  Mr.  Dachshund,  for  he  refused  to  go  to 
ground,  so  the  earth  was  stopped  and  we  moved  on.  Later 
in  the  day  the  two  Hunt  terriers  were  brought  up  and 
bolted  not  only  the  fox,  but  a  very  fat  groundhog  as  well. 

A  second  fox  was  found  in  Yarnall's  Hollow,  he  proving 
to  be  more  straight-necked  than  our  first,  and  giving  us  a 


4  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

run  of  eighty-five  minutes  all  through  the  lower  country; 
hounds  finally  losing  him  back  of  Bromall,  near  the  Marple 
Road. 

Among  those  hunting  were:  Harry  W.  Harrison;  W. 
Plunket  Stewart;  Charlie  and  Mrs.  Snowden;  Harry  Bar- 
clay; Miss  Kitty  Smith;  Rowland  Comly;  John  and  Mrs. 
Converse;  Mrs.  Valentine;  Devy  and  Mrs.  Devereux;  R. 
Nelson  Buckley;  Benjamin  Chew;  Edwin  L.  Blabon;  Mr. 
Fiske;  Miss  Emily  Barclay;  Ben  Holland;  and  Bayard 
Rives,  of  New  York,  who  had  just  bought  Mr.  Wain's 
mare  "Lady  Hannah"  for  $500,  and  thought  her  so  satis- 
factory that  he  went  to  Mr.  Wain  and  wanted  him  to 
accept  a  few  hundred  more  for  her! 

Saturday,  2ist  November,  1912 

As  we  arrived  at  Penn  Tavern  this  morning  for  the  meet 
at  ten  o'clock,  a  farmer  in  the  bar-room  said  the  Rose  Tree 
hounds  were  coming  up  country  towards  Green  Briar,  and, 
as  Green  Briar  was  to  be  our  first  draw,  we  met  Rose  Tree 
just  east  of  the  covert,  chatted  a  moment  with  Sam  Pink- 
erton,  the  huntsman,  and  then  the  two  packs  joined 
forces. 

Hounds  were  no  sooner  in  covert  than  a  fox  was  viewed 
out  the  far  side,  pointing  up-country  over  the  same  line 
that  we  had  on  Tuesday,  and,  with  the  two  packs  running 
as  one,  the  proverbial  blanket  would  have  covered  the 
thirty-four  couples  as  they  flew  on  towards  the  Westtown 
School,  making  a  complete  circle  of  the  school  buildings, 
leaving  it  left-handed  and  going  south  to  Locksley  sta- 
tion, with  our  field  of  seventy-five  rapidly  thinning  out, 
and  Chris  Hagan's  new  purchase,  "War  Whoop,"  already 
having  given  him  two  tosses. 

A  freight  train  was  seen  coming  directly  across  the  line 


WILL  LEVERTON  AND  FRANK   SMITH 

First  and  Second  Whippers-in  under  Horace  B.  Hare,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
and  Huntsman,  1912-1913 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  5 

of  hounds,  and,  by  a  great  effort,  Will  Leverton  and  Frank 
Smith,  the  whips,  succeeded  in  stopping  hounds  just  at  the 
edge  of  the  tracks  as  the  train  came  by.  Then  a  forward 
cast  by  Horace  Hare  and  hounds  went  off  again  with  a 
roar,  swinging  left-handed  beyond  the  station  and  taking 
us  at  a  burning  clip  to  the  House  of  Refuge,  where  hounds 
made  two  circles  of  the  wood  before  heading  down-coun- 
try. Ben  Chew  here  had  a  very  bad  fall,  his  horse  turning 
over  at  a  fence  and  landing  on  top  of  him,  pushing  him 
down  into  the  soft  mud.  When  the  horse  finally  rolled  off 
and  Ben  was  able  to  move,  there  was  quite  a  dent  in  the 
ground  where  they  had  fallen.  Ben  was  unable  to  go  on, 
and,  while  he  was  leaning  on  the  only  jumpable  part  of  the 
fence,  trying  to  get  his  wind,  the  rest  of  us  had  to  jump  a 
picket  fence  into  some  one's  farmyard,  a  rather  nasty 
place.  Mrs.  Fred  Sturges's  horse  refused  it,  and  she  never 
caught  up  with  hounds  again. 

Chris  Hagan  had  another  fall  jumping  into  a  lane  near 
here,  landing  head-first  in  a  patch  of  briars,  and  we  left 
him  sitting  on  a  rock  picking  thorns  out  of  his  face;  but  he 
caught  up  with  hounds  again  later  on,  and  had  the  rare 
honor  to-day  of  having  five  falls  from  his  new  purchase. 

John  Converse  came  to  grief  a  couple  of  fields  beyond, 
and  then  Eddie  Dale  performed  for  us  very  nicely  at  a 
stiff  three-rail  fence  out  of  a  cornfield. 

Every  one  was  getting  his  turn  and  the  pace  was  begin- 
ning to  tell,  when  hounds  checked  at  a  fork  in  the  road, 
and  it  was  decided  to  separate  the  two  packs  and  go  home. 
Just  as  we  were  moving  off  and  had  said  good-bye  to  Rose 
Tree,  a  Radnor  dog  hound  spoke;  both  packs  harked  to 
him  and  we  were  off  again  —  those  that  were  left  of  us  — 
at  a  pretty  fast  pace  towards  Green  Briar  and  over  a  very 
nice  line  of  grass. 


6  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Dr.  Jim  Hutchinson  came  to  grief  for  the  second  time 
just  before  we  reached  Green  Briar,  as  did  Frank  Smith, 
the  whipper-in. 

Hounds  were  pressing  their  fox  so  hard  that  he  appar- 
ently missed  connections  with  his  home  earth,  as  he  went 
straight  through  the  covert,  crossing  the  West  Chester 
Pike  and  circling  the  farm  opposite  the  Street  Road,  then, 
doubling  back  to  covert,  he  went  out  the  north  side  again, 
hounds  setting  such  a  pace  that  our  blown  horses  had  all 
they  could  do  to  keep  on  any  sort  of  terms  with  them;  and 
the  fox  continually  in  view  in  front  of  hounds. 

After  going  through  the  Dutton's  Mill  Wood,  my  faith- 
ful conveyance  "  Castlereagh "  put  me  down  in  a  very 
muddy  field;  but,  fortunately  for  me,  hounds  checked  a 
moment  later,  and  I  caught  up.  It  was  faster  than  ever 
from  now  on  to  Rocky  Hill,  where  hounds  rolled  their  fox 
over  in  the  open,  after  four  hours  of  really  remarkable 
work. 

There  were  sixteen  in  at  the  death,  out  of  a  field  of 
seventy-five.  Mrs.  Devereux  was  given  the  brush,  and 
Murray  Forbes,  of  Boston,  who  was  riding  one  of  Dr. 
Hutchinson's  horses,  was  given  a  pad,  as  was  also  Harry 
Barclay. 

Hounds  ran  their  fox  quite  twenty-five  miles  before 
pulling  him  down,  and,  by  the  map,  it  is  fifteen  miles  be- 
tween the  various  points. 

P.S.  Some  years  later,  after  dining  at  the  Barclays' 
town  house,  we  were  talking  over  the  long  runs  of  the  past, 
and  on  harking  back  to  this  memorable  day,  Harry  showed 
me  a  silver  paper-knife  with  a  fox's  pad  for  a  handle,  and, 
on  reading  the  engraved  inscription,  I  found  it  was  this 
same  fox. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL'  7 

Saturday,  ^oth  November,  1912 

IF  something  unusual  did  n't  happen  at  the  Annual  Meet- 
ing of  Radnor  Hunt,  most  people  would  be  disappointed. 

After  quite  a  good  day's  sport,  several  foxhunters 
stayed  on  at  the  Club  House  until  time  for  the  Annual 
Meeting  at  six-thirty.  Being  a  cold,  raw  day,  it  apparently 
was  necessary  to  take  liquid  refreshment  to  warm  the 
inner  man,  and  the  famous  Radnor  Yellow  Port,  which 
never  fails,  again  had  the  desired  effect. 

Just  as  the  President  had  heard  the  Master's  report 
and  was  rising  to  make  some  sort  of  remark,  complimen- 
tary, of  course,  there  was  a  tremendous  and  prolonged 
crash,  and  a  very  much  befuddled  foxhunter,  accompanied 
by  a  table  and  suitcase,  came  rolling  down  the  stairs  and 
landed  in  the  room  at  the  President's  feet.  To  say  the 
President  was  pleased,  is  putting  it  mildly!  What  remarks 
he  intended  to  make,  no  one  ever  knew,  but  the  Secretary 
saved  the  day  by  calling  for  the  Treasurer's  report,  while 
helping  hands  disposed  of  our  pink-coated  friend. 

Thursday,  5th  December,  1912 

AFTER  the  early  part  of  November,  the  country  became 
dry  again,  scent  being  indifferent  until  to-day,  when  a 
stout  fox  went  away  in  front  of  hounds  from  the  north 
side  of  Cathcart's  Rocks,  making  a  big  circle  around  the 
Leopard  and  back  to  the  White  Horse  Farm,  when  hounds 
swung  right-handed,  and,  keeping  Mr.  Boyer  Davis's 
house  on  their  right,  marked  their  fox  to  ground  at  the 
foot  of  a  dead  chestnut  tree  just  across  the  road  from  the 
Davis  gateway. 

Curiosityx  they  say,  killed  the  cat,  and  it  nearly  had  the 
same  effect  on  Alfred  Borden,  of  New  York,  who  was  here 
as  the  guest  of  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges.  After  hounds  had 


8  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

put  their  fox  under,  and,  while  there  was  a  great  tow-row- 
ing going  on  around  the  earth,  Borden  decided  he  wanted 
a  closer  view  of  the  proceedings,  and  in  jumping  a  barway 
from  the  road  into  the  field,  his  horse  turned  upside  down, 
giving  him  a  nasty-looking  fall,  but,  fortunately,  he  was 
none  the  worse  for  it. 

Tuesday,  ijth  December,  1912 

A.  HENRY  HIGGINSON,  M.F.H.,  Middlesex,  is  stopping 
with  me,  and,  being  very  anxious  that  he  should  have  a 
good  day  with  hounds,  I  was  more  than  satisfied,  as  we 
had  two  runs,  both  of  which  were  top-hole.  Mr.  William 
M.  Kerr  very  kindly  mounted  Alex.,  so  he  was  on  the 
right  sort  of  cattle  to  go,  which  was  fortunate. 

As  we  were  moving  off  from  White  Horse  at  ten  o'clock, 
Sam  Kirk's  hounds  came  up  the  road,  so  the  two  packs 
joined  and  found  at  the  first  draw;  a  fox  going  out  of  the 
meadow  below  Fairy  Hill,  and,  turning  up-country, 
crossed  the  Bryn  Clovis  Dairy  Farm  to  Sugartown,  where 
hounds  turned  left-handed  and  came  down  the  vale  very 
fast  to  Dutton's  Mill,  and  on  through  to  the  West  Chester 
Pike,  where,  at  a  moment's  check,  the  field  caught  up; 
then,  at  a  backward  cast,  they  turned  down-country, 
finally  marking  their  fox  to  earth  in  Charlie  Snowden's 
wood,  after  a  very  nice  forty-five  minutes. 

Our  second  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  far  side  of 
Green  Briar  Thicket,  with,  unfortunately,  only  four  and  a 
half  couples  of  hounds  on  the  line,  and  with  the  greater 
part  of  the  field  left  behind  on  the  lower  side  of  the  covert. 
But  what  we  lacked  in  numbers,  we  made  up  in  quality; 
our  fox,  pointing  his  mask  towards  West  Chester,  bore 
slightly  left-handed,  and  hounds,  keeping  the  Westtown 
School  on  their  right,  raced  up-country,  over  the  school 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  9 

property,  then,  bearing  north  again,  ran  with  a  burning 
scent  to  the  railroad  line,  about  a  mile  above  Moorestein 
Station,  where  hounds  were  at  fault  for  about  five  minutes 
while  we  got  off  our  horses  and  sat  on  a  fence  watching 
them  working  things  out,  which  they  soon  did;  and, 
carrying  a  good  scent,  ran  back  to  the  school  again, 
around  the  farm  buildings,  then  straight  down-country 
over  a  beautiful  line  to  Green  Briar,  where  our  fox  evi- 
dently went  under;  but  hounds  did  not  mark  him. 

We  had  all  had  quite  enough  of  it  by  now,  so  called  it  a 
day.  This  last  run  had  been  three  hours  all  told,  and 
those  of  us  in  it  were:  Higginson;  Will  Leverton;  Mrs. 
Charlie  Snowdon;  the  Misses  Beatrice  and  Gertrude 
deCoppet;  Ned  and  Mrs.  Blabon;  Frank  Lloyd;  Mr.  Kerr; 
Alex.  Brown  on  "Pebbles";  and  Sam  Kirk. 

Monday,  yd  February,  1913 

ON  Wednesday  of  last  week,  as  Charlie  Snowden  and 
John  Converse  were  motoring  down  the  West  Chester 
Pike,  above  Newtown  Square,  having  been  hunting  with 
Rose  Tree,  Charlie,  who  was  driving,  had  to  turn  out 
suddenly  for  a  buggy  that  came  out  of  a  lane,  and,  in 
doing  so,  the  car  struck  the  rails  of  the  trolley  track,  ran 
off  the  embankment,  and  turned  over  in  a  field,  injuring 
Snowden  so  badly  that  he  died  yesterday  in  the  Bryn  Mawr 
Hospital. 

An  all-around  sportsman  of  the  highest  type,  his  loss 
will  be  keenly  felt  by  every  one. 

Tuesday,  4th  February,  1913 

OWING   to   the   death   of  Charles   Randolph   Snowden, 
Radnor  Hounds  did  not  go  out  to-day. 
While  dressing  to  go  for  a  ride  this  afternoon,  Patrick 


io  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

came  running  up  to  the  house  to  tell  me  he  could  hear 
hounds  down  by  the  Darby  Creek,  so  I  hustled  along  and 
reached  the  creek  just  as  a  pack  of  hounds  were  swimming 
across.  I  recognized  them  as  Rose  Tree,  but  no  one  was 
with  them,  so  I  had  things  all  to  myself. 

They  turned  down  the  long  meadow  below  the  covered 
bridge,  then  worked  slowly  up  over  the  hill  and  ran  par- 
allel to  the  Lawrence  Road  to  Grassland^Station,  where 
they  turned  left-handed  and  with  a  beautiful  cry  ran  to 
the  Ellis  Road,  where  the  fox  had  evidently  been  turned 
by  a  farmer,  as  hounds  turned  back  and  ran  to  the  hill- 
side above  the  creek  again,  when  I  could  hear  a  horn  across 
the  creek  in  the  wood  back  of  Bergdoll's,  and  presently 
two  horsemen  rode  out  of  the  wood.  They  came  around 
by  the  bridge,  and  turned  out  to  be  Simon  Delbert,  the 
ex-Master  of  Rose  Tree,  and  a  whipper-in.  Hounds  had 
run  quite  away  from  them,  and,  as  it  was  getting  dark  and 
they  had  six  miles  to  go  back  to  kennels,  they  whipped 
hounds  off  and  we  parted. 

Wednesday,  12th  February,  1913,  "Lincoln's  Birthday" 
A  MORE  unpropitious  day  for  hunting  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  imagine.  The  mercury  was  at  14°  when  I  left  my 
stable  at  ten-thirty  to  hack  over  to  the  kennels  for  the 
meet  at  eleven.  Not  only  was  it  cold,  but  a  gale  was 
blowing. 

The  first  draw  was  Mr.  Ellis's  meadow,  but  the  big 
drains  there  proved  blank.  Hounds  moved  on  down  the 
Darby  Creek  to  the  wood  back  of  Bergdoll's,  where  two 
foxes  went  away,  the  pack  splitting,  but  most  of  the  small 
field  out  went  after  that  part  of  the  pack  that  crossed  the 
Pike,  bearing  left-handed  to  the  Lawrence  Mills,  then  up- 
country  again,  along  the  creek  to  the  Fox  Croft  Quarries. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  n 

where,  after  a  short  check,  hounds  swung  sharply  around 
and  took  us  back  down-country  again  to  the  Mill.  Cross- 
ing the  Pike  above  the  Mill,  hounds  ran  at  a  faster  pace 
over  the  meadows  to  Powder  Rocks,  then,  reaching  the 
hills  again,  they  were  brought  to  their  noses  as  previously 
and  worked  their  line  on  up-country,  through  Bromall  to 
the  Barrens,  and  on  out  to  Bryn  Mawr  Avenue,  where  the 
fox  was  evidently  turned,  for  hounds  turned  back  once 
more  and  were  finally  whipped  off  in  Bergdoll's  Wood, 
after  three  hours  and  five  minutes  of  very  good  hound 
work,  but  not  a  great  deal  of  galloping,  which,  no  doubt, 
was  a  good  thing,  as  the  going  was  hard  as  nails  and  the 
hillsides  a  mass  of  ice. 

Roscoe  Bowen's  chestnut  mare  went  down  in  a  ditch  on 
the  hilltops  back  of  Bergdoll's,  and  both  Roscoe  and  the 
mare  were  considerably  the  worse  for  wear;  Roscoe  so 
much  so  that  he  had  to  be  taken  to  the  hospital  for  repairs. 

There  were  very  few  who  ventured  out  on  such  a  day, 
and  fewer  still  of  us  who  stayed  to  the  end;  those  at  the 
meet  being:  Horace  B.  Hare,  M.F.H.;  Harry  W.  Harrison; 
Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges,  but  they  left  rather  early;  Harry 
and  Miss  Barclay;  Mr.  Fiske;  Mrs.  John  Converse;  Ned 
Blabon;  Rowland  Comly;  Isaac  Clothier;  and  Nelson 
Buckley. 

It  seemed  an  impossible  day  to  hunt.  One  would  have 
said  there  would  be  no  scent  at  all,  which  only  goes  to 
prove  that  the  longer  one  hunts,  the  less  one  really  knows 
about  scent;  or,  maybe  it  is  n't  so  much  the  foxes'  scent  as 
it  is  the  condition  of  hounds;  how  they  are  hunted  and 
whether  they  rely  on  themselves  or  rely  on  their  hunts- 
man; and  whether  they  are  keen  for  their  work  or  are 
slack. 


12  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Thursday,  2oth  February,  1913 

WHEN  hounds  break  away  on  the  road  in  going  from  the 
meet  to  the  first  covert,  as  they  did  to-day,  when  we 
moved  off  from  Newtown  Square  at  ten-thirty,  and  when 
one  is  riding  a  green  colt  that  it's  quite  impossible  to  hold; 
and  when  one  comes  to  grief  at  the  first  fence  and  never 
sees  hounds  again  all  day;  —  well,  there's  not  a  great 
deal  one  can  say  about  the  way  hounds  worked,  or  the 
line  they  took;  but,  fortunately,  —  or  maybe  it's  unfor- 
tunate, —  there  were  others  who  had  their  vicissitudes  as 
well  as  I. 

A  fox  had  evidently  just  crossed  the  road  below  the 
Square  before  hounds  came  along,  for  they  broke  away 
with  a  tremendous  roar  as  we  were  moving  off,  and  crossed 
over  into  Battles's  Meadows,  on  across  the  Line  Road 
keeping  the  green-houses  on  their  right,  and  swinging 
right-handed  into  the  Mark  Hopkins  farm. 

Back  of  the  green-houses  I  came  to  grief  in  three  strands 
of  telegraph  wire.  Oh,  yes!  I  saw  the  wire;  but  I  could  n't 
stop.  Dave  Sharp  kindly  caught  my  horse  and  put  him  in 
a  lady's  back  yard,  where  all  the  family  wash,  composed 
principally  of  unmentionables,  was  hanging  out  to  dry; 
and  the  least  I  can  say  is  —  that  the  lady  was  not  at  all 
pleased.  After  helping  pick  up  the  aforementioned  un- 
mentionables that  my  horse  had  knocked  down  and  walked 
on,  I  started  out  after  hounds  again;  but  the  first  thing  I 
saw  was  Gerry  Leiper  being  run  away  with  on  "Banker" 
Smith's  grey  roan.  He  went  by  Snakehouse  Wood  like  an 
express  train  and  stopped  somewhere  near  White  Horse, 
minus  his  shoes  and  with  very  sore  feet. 

Next  I  met  Miss  Betty  Sinnickson,  very  ruffled  as  re- 
gards her  temper.  She  had  been  pulled  off  by  a  grapevine 
in  the  wood  and  a  certain  gallant  foxhunter  had  galloped 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  13 

by  and  left  her  sitting  in  a  brook,  never  offering  a  helping 
hand.  After  walking  "miles  and  miles,"  as  she  said,  she 
had  found  her  horse  tied  to  a  fence! 

Next  I  met  Ned  Blabon,  near  Gradyville,  wrangling 
with  a  balky  horse,  and  his  temper  was  also  a  bit  frayed  at 
the  edges. 

Then  I  met  Ben  Chew  and  Harry  Barclay  on  the  West 
Chester  Pike;  but  they  were  also  lost. 

Hounds  ran  their  fox  from  the  Square  to  Snakehouse 
Wood,  to  Castle  Rocks,  to  Brooks's  Wood,  through  the 
Hospital  Farm  to  the  Radnor  Barrens,  Lawrence  Mills, 
and  were  whipped  off  at  the  Lamb  Tavern.  A  very  good 
place  to  whip  off! 

Mrs.  Valentine  and  Frank  Smith,  the  second  whipper- 
in,  who  had  made  a  bad  turn  at  the  start,  heard  hounds  on 
up-country,  so,  thinking  they  were  Radnor,  galloped 
after  them,  finally  coming  up  to  them  only  to  discover  they 
were  Sam  Kirk's  and  just  putting  a  fox  to  earth  in  Cath- 
cart's  Rocks,  many  miles  from  where  our  hounds  were  at 
that  moment. 

Tuesday,  2$th  February,  1913 

ONLY  four  of  us  were  foolish  enough,  or  keen  enough,  — 
whichever  way  you  want  to  put  it,  —  to  go  hunting  to- 
day. Hounds  waited  around  a  bit  after  the  scheduled 
time  to  move  off,  to  see  if  any  one  else  would  turn  up,  but 
with  the  glass  at  12°,  and  a  high  wind,  frozen  fingers,  and  a 
horse  that  one  could  just  hold,  but  maybe  not  much  longer, 
for  he  felt  as  if  he  was  going  to  jump  out  of  his  skin  the 
next  second,  the  prospect  did  not  look  encouraging. 

Fortunately,  we  (Mr.  Fiske,  Buck,  Frank  Lloyd,  and  I) 
did  n't  have  to  do  much  sitting  around,  for  a  fox  was 
viewed  away,  immediately  hounds  were  put  into  the 


I4  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Bromall  Wood,  and,  pointing  south,  took  us  to  Moore's 
and  Hatton's,  where  hounds  swung  left-handed  up  the 
creek  to  the  Lawrence  Mills,  over  the  creek  and  down 
country  again  to  Leedom's  Mill,  through  the  wood  and  out 
across  a  very  nice  line  of  meadows  for  a  couple  of  miles  to 
the  Media  trolley  line,  where  hounds  turned  sharply  to  the 
right  and  ran  with  a  breast-high  scent  along  the  bank  of 
the  creek  up  to  the  old  quarry,  where  a  long  log  crosses  the 
stream.  Here  the  whole  pack  crossed  on  the  log  in  a  single 
file  and  all  giving  tongue.  It  was  a  wonderful  picture  and 
well  worth  braving  the  cold  to  see. 

Hounds  ran  on  through  the  wood  back  of  the  quarry 
and  on  south,  keeping  the  Lamb  Tavern  on  their  left, 
crossed  the  State  Farm  and  on  into  Hatton's  again,  where, 
at  a  check,  I  pulled  out,  as  I  had  to  go  in  town. 

Hounds  ran  on  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter  longer, 
finally  being  whipped  off  near  the  Lamb. 

Saturday,  1st  March,  1913 

MUD,  mud,  I  '11  dream  of  mud  to-night,  for  I  have  eaten 
it,  galloped  through  it,  and  had  both  eyes  filled  with  it  all 
day  long;  and  if  hounds  had  not  run  in  a  big  circle  at  first, 
which  we  were  lucky  enough  to  be  on  the  inside  of,  we 
could  never  in  the  world  have  stayed  with  them.  Then  we 
were  also  greatly  assisted  by  some  men  who  were  working 
on  a  barn  roof  near  Walter  Klemm's  farm,  who  did  a  sort 
of  signalling  code  to  Bill  Evans.  After  meeting  at  White 
Horse,  we  found  in  Wayne's  Swamp,  hounds  going  out 
the  upper  side  through  oceans  of  mud  to  Sugartown, 
then  swinging  left-handed  down-country,  through  "  Bill " 
Evans's  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  out  the  lower  side  and  back 
again  to  the  Rocks,  and  on  up-country  to  the  Klemm 
Farm,  where  we  saw  our  fox  being  coursed  and  very  nearly 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  15 

caught  by  a  collie  dog,  with  the  pack  not  a  hundred  yards 
behind  the  collie;  but  both  the  fox  and  the  collie  saved 
their  brushes,  hounds  turning  right-handed  into  Klemm's 
thicket,  a  terrible  place  to  ride  through,  then  on  to 
Waynesboro  again  and  up-country  to  the  little  schoolhouse 
on  the  State  Road  above  Paoli,  where  we  viewed,  our  fox 
seeming  to  be  about  beaten,  with  the  pack  pushing  him 
very  hard. 

Reynard  was  heading  for  the  railroad,  and  Horace  Hare 
called  out  —  "  Shall  we  kill  him  or  whip  hounds  off? "  Every 
one  said  to  whip  off,  so  it  was  done  in  the  nick  of  time,  and 
Reynard  saved  his  brush  for  the  second  time  to-day. 

Our  horses  were  about  done;  many  shoes  were  left  in  the 
mud;  Mrs.  Dave  Sharp's  and  Ben  Holland's  horses  had 
broken  down;  and  Julian  Biddle  had  taken  a  muddy  bath 
along  the  bank  of  a  lane. 

Hounds  ran  an  hour  and  fifty  minutes,  and  those  in  the 
best  of  it  were:  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  Fred  and  Mrs. 
Sturges;  Mrs.  Valentine;  Bob  Montgomery;  Gerry  Leiper; 
Frank  Lloyd;  Miss  Carson;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grange;  Bill 
Evans;  Harry  Harrison;  and  Harry  and  Miss  Barclay. 

Good  Friday,  2ist  March,  1913 

IT  always  leaves  a  good  taste  in  one's  mouth  to  end  the 
season  with  a  fast  gallop  after  a  stout  fox.  I  don't  know 
about  the  other  people,  but  I  always  feel  sort  of  sad  and 
let  down  when  the  hunting  is  over.  There  are  so  many 
good  friends  and  smiling  faces  one  misses  and  never  sees  in 
the  summer,  except  sometimes  at  horse  shows  and  things 
like  that.  But  it's  a  funny  and  characteristic  failing,  that 
if  you  meet  a  foxhunter  at  the  races  or  a  dog-fight  or  any 
other  congenial  gathering-place,  you  can  always  tell  him 
at  once  by  the  smile  on  his  face. 


16  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

However,  I  'm  off  my  track  again,  for  I  started  out  to 
tell  about  the  last  run  of  the  season.  Hounds  met  at  the 
Kennels  at  ten  o'clock,  and  found  a  cold  line  in  the 
Bromall  Wood,  with  scent  very  catchy  and  a  hound  only 
speaking  to  it  here  and  there,  until  they  had  worked  down 
to  Powder  Rocks,  where  they  were  able  to  do  it  a  bit 
faster.  Crossing  into  Moore's,  they  evidently  were  on 
pretty  close  terms  with  their  fox,  for  they  went  very  fast, 
and  turned  right-handed  out  across  the  meadows  to  the 
Milk  House  on  the  Springfield  Road,  then,  swinging 
around,  raced  back  to  the  Lawrence  Mills,  crossed  the 
Pike,  through  Bergdoll's  to  the  creek,  and  here  most  of  the 
field  made  the  mistake  of  going  through  Bergdoll's  with 
hounds,  so  were  all  tied  up  in  wire.  A  few  of  us  crossed 
the  Pike  at  the  Hillcrest  Farm,  getting  on  even  terms  with 
hounds  as  they  came  up  the  creek.  Crossing  the  Marple 
Road  above  Sanderson's,  hounds  fairly  raced  over  the 
hills  to  the  Chester  Road  and  on  through  Saw  Mill  Hill  to 
the  Radnor  Barrens,  where  we  had  our  first  check.  It  was 
hot  and  our  horses  were  boiling,  so  was  Alex.  Brown,  for 
he  had  a  painful  carbuncle  on  his  neck. 

There  were  only  eight  of  us  there,  out  of  a  field  of 
twenty-eight:  Horace  Hare;  Harry  Harrison;  Alex.  Brown; 
Antelo  Devereux  and  Mrs.  Devereux;  Gerry  Leiper;  and 
Will  Leverton. 

Scent  seemed  to  fail  from  here  on,  for,  after  crossing 
Bryn  Mawr  Avenue  into  the  Hospital  Farm,  hounds  were 
put  to  their  noses  all  the  time;  the  line  fizzing  out  com- 
pletely near  Old  Square. 


SEASON  OF  1913-1914 


SEASON  OF  1913-1914 

"TAKE  Beecham's  Pills,  avoid  strong  drink,  beware  how 
you  leave  off  flannel,  and,  whatever  you  do,  don't  change 
your  mind  when  once  you  Ve  picked  your  panel!" 
Lindsay  Gordon  said  that,  and  it's  a  thundering  good 
rule  to  follow,  whether  you're  riding  a  steeplechase, 
hunting,  or  merely  doing  the  ordinary  things  of  life.  Per- 
sonally, I've  never  taken  the  aforementioned  pills;  but  I 
have,  I  'm  sorry  to  say,  changed  my  mind  about  the  panel. 

However,  it 's  no  use  trying  to  go  on  writing  when  you 
are  so  full  of  excitement  about  the  opening  of  another 
hunting  season.  But  there  is  that  something  about  an 
opening  day  that  makes  one  a  bit  nervous,  as  it  were. 

Cub-hunting  comes  before  the  opening  day,  so  we  had 
better  get  at  that  first. 

Hounds  started  cubbing  about  the  middle  of  August, 
with  a  good-sized  and  very  likely-looking  young  entry, 
making  a  total  of  fifty-three  and  a  half  couples  of  hounds 
in  kennel. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  mornings  was  2gth  October, 
when  our  hounds  harked  to  Sam  Kirk's  pack  which  was 
running  a  fox  on  the  Baltz  Farm  at  Old  Square.  After 
making  several  big  circles  around  Innes's  and  Brooks's 
Woods,  where  we  viewed  our  fox  a  number  of  times, 
hounds  were  pressing  him  pretty  hard,  and  Reynard  evi- 
dently decided  it  was  about  time  to  go  to  ground.  He 
went  to  earth,  but  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  for  a  black-and- 
tan  hound  came  trotting  proudly  up  to  Sam  Kirk,  carry- 
ing about  half  of  the  fox's  brush  in  its  mouth.  A  pretty 
narrow  squeak  for  Mr.  Fox. 


20  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Then  on  the  ist  of  November,  the  opening  day  of  the 
shooting  season,  Radnor  hounds  were  running  a  dog  fox 
through  "Pick"  Harrison's  "Seventy-Six"  Farm,  when  a 
man  shot  the  fox  right  in  front  of  hounds.  Horace  Hare 
was  boiling  mad,  as  we  all  were,  and,  from  the  cursing-out 
the  poor  devil  received,  I  don't  think  he  will  ever  shoot 
another  fox. 

On  6th  November  hounds  found  a  cub  in  Hatton's 
Wood,  ran  him  out  through  Moore's,  across  into  Powder 
Rocks,  then  on  up  the  meadows,  killing  him  on  the  edge  of 
the  Bromall  Wood  in  thirteen  minutes. 

But  to  hark  back  to  the  business  of  the  day,  the  opening 
meet  of  the  Season  with  its  new  horses,  new  boots,  new 
liveries  for  the  Hunt  servants,  some  new  ladies  (they 
always  help  a  lot),  and  some  of  Mr.  Harrison's  good  hot 
toddy. 

Happy  Creek  Farms  —  never  mind  if  I  live  to  be  a 
hundred,  which  I  won't  —  will  always  be  associated  in  my 
mind  with  the  opening  day  of  a  season  at  Radnor.  After  a 
cheery  how-de-do  from  the  most  hospitable  hostess,  a 
breakfast  of  just  the  right  things  to  put  into  a  hunting 
stomach,  while  sitting  at  a  table  with  Penn  Smith,  who 
tells  you,  just  previous  to  his  starting  out  for  a  second 
round  of  everything,  that  he  has  n't  missed  one  of  these 
breakfasts  of  Mr.  Harrison's  since  Mr.  Mather  was 
Master  of  Radnor.  After  this,  one  begins  to  feel  really  at 
home,  and  then  somebody  comes  in  and  says  hounds  have 
arrived.  You  look  at  your  wrist  watch  and  find  there  are 
ten  minutes  yet  to  spare,  so,  just  to  make  the  day  quite 
complete,  you  run  down  the  steps  into  George  Harrison's 
trophy  room  to  take  a  peep  at  the  best  collection  of  heads 
in  the  country.  That 's  a  mighty  good  cigar  the  old  butler 
gave  you,  but  it's  a  bit  strong,  maybe,  to  smoke  before 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  21 

hunting,  so  you  politely  let  it  go  out.  Yes,  your  horse  is 
here;  there's  the  faithful  Patrick  walking  him  about. 
Horace  Hare,  M.F.H.,  comes  out,  gets  up  on  "Plainsman," 
shortens  his  leathers,  gives  a  few  instructions  to  Will 
Leverton,  who  nods  to  Harry  Brown,  the  first  whipper-in, 
gives  a  note  on  his  horn,  and  the  season  is  on. 

Mr.  Harrison's  meadow,  always  the  first  draw,  was 
blank  to-day,  so  hounds  go  up-country  to  Sharp's  Wood, 
where,  as  soon  as  a  hound  speaks,  Dave  Sharp  is  all  ex- 
citement. The  fox  is  viewed  away  and  Dave  gallops  up, 
saying,  "This  is  the  greatest  running  fox  in  the  country. 
I've  fed  him  all  summer  on  beefsteaks  and  mutton  chops; 
he's  eaten  forty-two  dollars'  worth  since  the  I5th  of  July." 
But  a  few  playful  bucks  from  the  Master  of  Craft  colt  he 
is  riding  puts  a  stop  to  any  further  praises  of  his  hand-fed 
fox.  He  may  be  a  stout  fox,  or  he  may  be  suffering  from 
the  effects  of  his  last  Berwyn  beefsteak;  at  any  rate,  he 
won't  give  us  a  gallop  to-day,  for  he  pops  back  to  covert 
and  goes  to  earth,  much  to  every  one's  disgust,  and  a  lot 
of  good-natured  chaffing  at  the  Master  of  Hawthorne. 

Mr.  Wayne's  Wood,  though,  produces  one  of  a  more 
straight-necked  variety,  for  he  goes  out  the  upper  end  of 
the  covert,  crosses  into  the  Paoli  Barrens,  swings  left- 
handed,  and  gives  us  a  very  nice  forty-five  minutes  to 
earth  on  the  Boyer  Davis  Farm. 

There  were  forty-six  in  the  field,  including  the  Master, 
Benjamin  Chew,  on  "Oviat";  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges, 
just  over  from  Fairfield  for  the  season,  Fred  on  "Pocono" 
and  the  Mrs.  on  "Frosty";  Rowland  Comly;  Harry  Harri- 
son; Mr.  Fiske;  Mr.  Beale;  George  Brooke  III  on  "Black- 
bird"; Bayard  Rives,  of  New  York,  on  a  borrowed  chest- 
nut mare;  Antelo  Devereux;  Ned  Blabon;  Dave  and  Mrs. 
Sharp;  Miss  Rose  Dolan  on  "Circus";  Henry  and  Mrs. 


22  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

i 

Collins,  of  Pittsburgh;  Bob  Montgomery;  Miss  Ellen 
Mary  Cassatt  on  "Tango";  Lowber  and  Walter  Stokes; 
Mrs.  Galloney;  Mr.  Wain  in  his  breakcart;  Miss  Rulon 
Miller  on  a  bay;  Mr.  Bodine;  Mr.  "Banker"  Smith  on  a 
big  seven  teen-hand  grey;  Mr.  Crosby  Brown;  and  Julian 
Biddle. 

Saturday,  2Oth  December,  1913 

EVERY  one  knows  —  or  should  know,  at  least  —  that  fox- 
hunting could  not  exist  a  moment  in  any  country  without 
the  cooperation  and  good- will  of  the  farmers;  and  in  a 
country  like  Chester  and  Delaware  Counties  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, where  not  only  the  present  generation  of  farmers, 
but  their  grandfathers  and  great-grandfathers  were  fox- 
hunters  before  them,  the  relationship  is  very  close  between 
the  so-called  fashionable  hunting-men  and  the  farmer. 
There  is  that  bond  between  them  that  has  just  that  "some- 
thing" in  it  that  no  one  can  describe.  One  can  never  mis- 
take it,  that  tie  of  friendship  between  foxhunters,  no 
matter  where  they  meet;  and  I  doubt  if  there  is  another 
Hunt  Club  in  America,  besides  Radnor,  that  is  annually 
given  a  Hunt  Breakfast  by  a  bona-fide  farmer  over  whose 
lands  it  hunts. 

That  the  native  farmer  of  the  Radnor  country  has  fox- 
lore  bred  in  him,  is  extremely  well  told  by  Clifton  Lisle  in  a 
series  of  articles  published  recently,  a  part  of  which  is  as 
follows : 

"Perhaps  the  best  example  of  that  deep-rooted  love  of 
hunting  which  existed  in  the  farmer  of  a  century  ago,  as 
strongly  as  it  does  in  the  one  of  to-day,  is  the  story  of 
Jesse  Russell,  of  Edgemont  Township,  on  whose  farm  rose 
Hunting  Hill,  then,  as  now,  a  well-known  covert  from 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  23 

which  many  a  good  fox  has  broken  on  his  last  run  before 
the  hounds.  Jesse  Russell,  after  a  lifetime  spent  in  cheer- 
ing on  the  hounds,  asked,  as  he  lay  dying,  that  he  might  be 
buried  on  Hunting  Hill  in  order  that  the  cry  of  the  hounds, 
as  they  found  their  fox,  might  ring  in  his  ears  from  season 
to  season  until  the  end  of  time.  His  request  was  granted, 
and  his  grave  can  be  seen  to  this  day  on  the  northern  side 
of  Hunting  Hill.  Scarcely  a  week  goes  by,  from  October 
frost  till  the  thaws  of  April,  but  the  Rose  Tree  Hounds 
come  working  over  the  woodland  hilltop  close  by  the  little 
stone-walled  enclosure.  The  sound  of  the  horn  still  echoes 
through  the  trees,  the  opening  note  of  the  find  still  floats 
out  across  the  pastures  towards  Newtown,  and  the  good 
old  cheer  of  'Tally-Ho!  Gone  Away!'  still  rings  on  the 
frosty  air  above  the  grave  of  Jesse  Russell,  farmer,  a  sports- 
man to  the  end.  He  was  but  typical  of  countless  others. 

"Our  hunting  farmers  of  to-day  are  men  of  the  same 
sort.  They  have  made  hunting  what  it  is  among  us.  The 
farmers  own  the  land  on  which  the  sport  exists.  They 
alone  can  make  or  mar  it.  Like  the  brave  old  sporting 
farmer  of  Hunting  Hill,  may  they  ever  love  the  cry  of 
hounds  and  ever  lend  their  aid  to  the  sport,  for,  without 
that,  there  can  be  no  lasting  success." 

I  started  out  to  write  about  to-day's  run  that  followed  a 
most  delightful  breakfast  given  by  Sam  and  Mrs.  Kirk  at 
White  Horse.  There  were  quite  a  hundred  at  the  party  at 
nine  o'clock,  and  over  eighty  of  them  were  hunting,  which 
speaks  well  for  the  popularity  of  our  farmer  friend.  Sam 
Kirk  and  his  hounds  are  as  much  an  institution  in  the 
Radnor  country  as  are  the  Radnor  hounds,  and  when  the 
two  packs  hunt  together,  as  they  did  to-day,  good  sport  is 
invariably  the  rule. 


24  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Three  foxes  were  on  foot.  The  first,  from  Kirk's  Wood, 
crossed  the  Goshen  Road  into  Mr.  Cuyler's,  and  hounds, 
being  put  to  their  noses,  carried  him  over  into  Mr.  Charl- 
ton  Yarnall's,  where  scent  failed  completely. 

The  second  was  viewed  away  from  Bill  Evans's  Wood, 
when  hounds  pushed  him  over  the  meadows  with  a  hold- 
ing scent,  on  up  the  hill  on  the  White  Horse  Farm  to  Cath- 
cart's  Rocks,  where  they  marked  him  under. 

The  third  was  a  home-loving  beast,  for,  after  making 
three  complete  turns  from  end  to  end  of  the  Malvern 
Barrens,  hounds  finally  pushed  him  out  the  lower  side, 
going  at  a  good  clip  to  Evans's  Wood,  swinging  right- 
handed  to  Fairy  Hill,  out  the  north  end  and  across  the 
Bryn  Clovis  Dairy  Farm,  when  hounds  pushed  him  back 
to  the  Barrens  and  to  earth  in  just  an  hour. 

Besides  the  two  Masters,  Horace  B.  Hare  and  Samuel 
Kirk,  there  were:  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Ben  Chew;  Alex- 
ander Wheeler;  Alex.  Brown;  John  Converse;  Dave  and 
Mrs.  Sharp;  Mrs.  Howard  Henry;  John  Fell;  Ned  and 
Mrs.  Blabon;  Ben  Holland;  Clyde  John;  Henry  and  Mrs. 
Collins;  Frank  Lloyd;  and  Alex.  Grange. 

Tuesday,  2yd  December,  1913 

ALTHOUGH  Goshen  School  is  our  farthest  up-country  meet, 
it  ranks  next  in  popularity  with  White  Horse;  but,  as  luck 
will  have  it,  it  nearly  always  is  cold  as  blazes,  or  rains,  or 
something,  when  hounds  meet  there,  to  make  a  long,  long 
hack  home  seem  just  that  much  longer. 

But,  instead  of  that,  let 's  think  of  the  delights  of  riding 
home  with  some  charming  girl,  who  is  just  as  wet  and 
cold  as  you  are,  but  who  does  n't  seem  to  mind  it;  and,  as 
Sabretache  in  "The  Tatler"  says:  "But  what  if  your  nose 
is  all  scratched,  your  thumb  sprained  and  your  knees  all 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  25 

raw?  Think  of  the  hot  bath,  and  the  hot  with  (also  with 
lemon),  then  dinner,  then  yawns  before  the  fire,  then  bed, 
and  then  dreams,  the  sound  of  the  Percival;  the  pistol 
shots  of  the  well-dubbined  thong  that  go^echoing  in  Thrust- 
ington  Woods,  the  deep  notes  of  Abelard,  Abigail,  and  the 
other  beauties;  the  swish  over  that  big  place;  the  way 
your  horse  pulled  you  out  of  the  saddle  for  the  first  two 
miles,  and  then  went  like  the  good  'un  he  is,  making  light 
of  that  hillside,  and  fair  sailing  over  even  the  plow;  then, 
cuss  him,  your  servant  knocks  on  the  door  and  spoils  the 
whole  show;  and  you  know  that,  even  if  you  do  go  to  sleep 
again,  you  won't  dream  it  all  over  again."  But,  for  Hea- 
ven's sake,  let's  "Tally-Ho  Bike";  we  are  n't  even  at  the 
meet  yet. 

Shellbark  Hollow,  always  the  first  draw  from  a  Goshen 
meet,  was  blank  to-day;  but  the  Hershey's  Mill  fox  was 
at  home.  He  kindly  allowed  us  all  to  see  him  leave  home 
soon  after  we  arrived.  He  went  out  of  covert  just  in  front 
of  hounds,  the  whole  pack  running  by  sight  across  the  big 
fields  in  front  of  the  Brown  place  to  the  wood,  where  a 
sharp,  right-handed  turn  brought  hounds  to  their  noses; 
then,  carrying  a  good  scent  with  a  beautiful  cry,  they 
raced  back  to  the  hill  above  the  Mill,  over  the  King  Road, 
and  into  the  thicket.  Here  a  big  new,  four-rail  fence,  took 
a  lot  of  doing  and  held  things  up  a  moment.  Mrs.  Fred 
Sturges's  new  brown  mare  "Grandma"  turned  upside 
down,  but  they  were  up  and  going  again  in  a  minute,  with 
hounds  now  fairly  flying  towards  Frazier;  but,  keeping 
the  station  well  on  their  right,  pushed  their  fox  to  ground 
near  the  covert,  after  having  given  us  a  delightful  sixty- 
five  minutes. 

A  second  fox  was  pushed  out  of  a  neighboring  wood,  but 
hounds  were  barely  settled  to  the  line  when  the  rain  came 


26  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

down  in  torrents,  scent  failing  at  once.  Coat-collars  were 
turned  up,  throat-latches  buttoned,  and  the  wet  proces- 
sion started  for  home.  Fifteen  miles  is  a  long  way  in  the 
rain. 

Tuesday,  30$  December,  1913 

SOME  crossroads  may  be  appropriate  places  for  hounds  to 
meet,  but  an  old  country  inn  or  tavern  always  seems  to 
me  the  more  fitting  spot.  There 's  that  air  of  the  old-time 
world  and  a  certain  lack  of  present-day  hustle  and  bustle 
about  an  inn  that  fits  in  so  well  with  hounds. 

Newtown  Square  this  morning  at  ten-thirty  was  more 
like  a  lazy  day  in  early  June  than  the  end  of  December; 
and,  to  quote  the  newspapers,  the  present  month  has  been 
the  warmest  December  since  1790.  Hounds  have  not  been 
stopped  by  frost  yet  this  season,  and  the  farmers  are  be- 
ginning to  worry  about  getting  their  ice-houses  filled. 

Mr.  Vauclain's  peach  orchard  was,  as  usual,  the  first 
draw;  hounds  finding  at  once,  and  Reynard  giving  us  a 
nice  view  as  he  leaped  out  over  the  tall  grass,  ran  to  the 
top  of  the  hill,  sat  down,  looked  around  at  hounds,  and, 
after  taking  stock  of  the  situation,  galloped  on,  making  a 
big  circle  of  the  farm,  hounds  carrying  the  line  back  to 
covert;  but,  pushing  through,  crossed  the  Newtown  Road 
into  Battles,  and,  keeping  the  little  stone  farmhouse  on 
their  left,  swung  down  into  Snakehouse  Wood  and  on 
through  to  Trimble's  Hollow;  then,  bearing  left-handed, 
they  fairly  raced  down  the  meadows  to  the  covered  bridge 
on  the  Line  Road,  where,  at  a  moment's  check,  hounds 
ran  on  up  the  hillside  to  the  Glendenning  Farm,  checking 
again  along  the  creek  opposite  the  Mark  Hopkins  barn. 

A  farmhand  at  the  barn  had  viewed,  so  a  forward  cast 
by  Will  Leverton  put  hounds  right  again,  and,  pointing 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  27 

down-country,  they  carried  it  to  Palmer's  Mill,  through 
the  covered  bridge  (nothing  sounds  better  than  a  pack  in 
full  cry  going  through  a  covered  bridge)  to  the  Rose  Tree 
Race  Track,  where  they  made  the  lower  turn  of  the  track, 
and  sinking  the  hill  crossed  the  road  into  Dr.  Jim  Hutch- 
inson's  farm. 

Hounds  were  at  fault  in  the  quarry  an  instant,  then 
running  up  the  creek  through  Palmer's  Mill  again,  and  on 
over  the  same  line  as  we  had  come  down-country  to 
Snakehouse  and  Trimble's  Hollow;  hounds  being  whipped 
off  at  the  covered  bridge  in  the  hollow,  after  two  hours  and 
forty  minutes  of  very  beautiful  hound  work,  and  scent 
just  holding  enough  to  keep  them  on  their  noses  and  allow 
the  field  to  stay  on  terms  with  them.  It's  a  hilly  bit  of 
country,  but  something  quite  fascinating  about  it,  and 
hounds  are  apt  to  run  well  there,  but  not  at  great  speed. 
There  were  not  many  out,  only  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins; 
Mrs.  Victor  Mather;  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Miss  Betty 
Sinnickson;  Miss  Ruth  Wood;  Isaac  and  Mrs.  Clothier; 
and  Ned  Dougherty. 

Saturday,  17 th  January,  1914 

IT'S  always  a  great  pleasure,  as  well  as  very  good  for  one, 
to  hunt  with  a  neighboring  pack.  One  gets  in  a  rut  if  one 
never  sees  how  they  do  it  in  some  one's  else  country;  and 
to-day's  run  with  the  Brandywine,  although  short,  was 
most  interesting  and  delightful. 

But  how  could  it  be  anything  but  delightful,  with  such 
a  host  as  the  Master  of  the  Brandywine,  Charles  E. 
Mather,  Esq.,  and  his  two  charming  foxhunting  daughters 
to  receive  you  and  your  wife,  even  if  it  was  raining  like 
the  proverbial  cats  and  dogs,  and  the  prospects  for  the 
morrow  anything  but  propitious.  But  after  a  good  dinner, 


28  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

a  pleasant  chat  for  a  couple  of  hours  with  a  bit  of  music, 
we  went  out  and  took  a  smell  at  the  weather  and  decided 
the  worst  of  the  storm  was  over  and  that  the  morrow 
would  be  fine.  Our  guess  was  right.  The  morning  was 
beautiful.  Hounds  were  on  the  hill  back  of  the  house  when 
we  had  finished  breakfast  at  nine-thirty,  and  the  horses 
waiting  for  us  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Mather  kindly  mounted  me  on  a  chestnut  mare, 
"Southern  Girl"  out  of  "Miss  Louden,"  by  "Pagan," 
one  of  his  own  breeding,  as  were  all  the  other  horses  in  the 
field,  including  the  hounds. 

Mr.  William  M.  Kerr  drove  in  the  gate  just  as  we  were 
getting  up.  He  was  given  that  good  old  chaser  "Home- 
spun" to  ride,  and  we  jogged  over  to  take  a  look  at  the 
hounds,  and  as  Sabretache  says  in  "The  Tatler": 

"There's  a  very  different  feeling  comes  to  one  on  a  morn- 
ing like  this.  It's  all  a  bit  strange,  the  horse,  the  hounds, 
the  country;  and,  my!  how  big  and  upstanding  the  fences 
are,  and  you  wish  the  other  fellows  did  not  look  so  con- 
foundedly brave.  But  it  all  vanishes  after  you've  had 
two  or  three  of  the  best,  and  'Chestnutoss'  has  given 
you  that  great  feel,  that  he  always  did,  of  being  able  to  go 
about  six  inches  higher  and  two  yards  farther,  if  necessary, 
and  the  saddle,  that  seemed  to  have  forgotten  how  to  fit 
you,  slips  back  into  all  the  old  niches  that  make  you  be- 
lieve that  you  could  n't  possibly  come  unstuck,  even  if  he 
went  half  across  the  next  field  on  his  head!  One  light  note 
in  covert,  the  crash  as  hounds  go  out  over  the  boundary 
fence,  one  touch  of  the  horn,  and  the  whistle  of  God's 
glorious  oxygen  past  your  back  hair  as  'Chestnutoss' 
gets  a  nice  hold  and  drops  on  to  his  bit  with  a  sort  of 
'what's-all-the-fuss-about?'  manner,  and  you  are  right 
in  a  thing  called  a  trivet  —  whatever  that  may  be,  I  Ve 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  29 

never  owned  a  trivet  myself — only  a  greyhound  and  a 
disreputable  black  cat." 

Thompson  had  out  a  mixed  pack  of  twenty  and  a  half 
couples  of  as  nice-looking  hounds  as  I  ever  had  the  good 
fortune  to  ride  behind;  but  conditions  were  against  us  by 
the  time  we  reached  the  first  covert,  as  a  high,  cold  wind 
sprang  up  at  ten  o'clock.  Hounds  had  many  blank  draws, 
but  pushed  on  northward  until  finally  Jack  Potter,  the  first 
whipper-in,  viewed  a  fox  away  from  Young's  Wood  with 
hounds  right  on  his  brush.  They  fairly  flew,  giving  us  a 
fifteen-minute  gallop  over  a  beautiful  line  of  grass  country 
to  earth  on  the  hillside  back  of  the  Poor  House.  Hounds 
were  marking  their  fox  well  to  ground,  when  we  came  up. 

"Homespun"  came  to  grief  with  Mr.  Kerr  right  at  the 
start;  but  they  were  up  and  going  again  immediately  and 
none  the  worse  for  wear. 

The  field  was  small,  which  adds  so  much  to  one's 
pleasure,  including  only  the  Master;  Miss  Josephine 
Mather;  Miss  Dorothy  Mather;  Mr.  Kerr;  Gilbert  Mather; 
and  a  couple  of  farmer  friends. 

Friday,  2yd  January,  1914 

AFTER  having  drawn  the  Radnor  Barrens  and  Hospital 
Farm  blank,  we  met  Sen-ill's  hounds  at  Newtown  Square, 
and,  joining  forces,  crossed  the  Pike  into  Mr.  Vauclain's 
meadow,  where  hounds  went  away  at  once,  giving  volumes 
of  tongue  through  the  tall  grass,  when,  to  our  surprise,  a 
black  cat  was  viewed  away,  fairly  sailing  over  the  next 
field  with  a  fox  not  fifty  yards  behind  it.  Mr.  Cat  went  to 
earth  or  a  tree,  but  the  fox  was  a  straight-necked  chap, 
for  he  pointed  to  Snakehouse,  but,  keeping  it  on  his  left, 
led  hounds  with  a  catchy  scent  to  Trimble's  Hollow,  where 
scent  improved  wonderfully,  hounds  racing  at  top  speed 


30  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

through  Hunting  Hill  to  Castle  Rocks,  where  they  turned 
right-handed  down  the  creek  to  Trimble's  Hollow  again, 
on  to  Broadlawn  and  back  to  earth  in  Snakehouse  Wood, 
in  fifty-three  minutes  of  very  fast  work,  especially  the  last 
part  of  it. 

Mrs.  Sharp,  riding  a  beautiful  line  of  her  own,  quite  dis- 
tinguished herself  over  a  lot  of  big  worm  fences. 

Among  the  others  in  the  best  of  it  were:  Mrs.  Paul  D. 
Mills;  Miss  Gertrude  Henry;  Alex.  Brown;  Fred  and  Mrs. 
Sturges;  Ned  Blabon;  and  Ned  and  Miss  Dougherty. 

Tuesday,  2-jth  January,  1914 

OWING  to  a  heavy  fog,  hounds  were  kept  in  kennels  until 
noon,  and  by  that  time  practically  the  entire  field  was 
made  up  of  ladies,  the  principal  topic  of  conversation  being 
the  news  that  W.  Plunket  Stewart  had  just  bought  a  large 
farm  near  Unionville,  and  the  Unionville  hounds  as  well, 
expecting  to  establish  a  pack  there  and  hunt  the  country, 
calling  it  the  Cheshire. 

Hounds  found  in  Innes's  Wood,  getting  away  on  good 
terms  with  their  fox,  raced  him  across  the  White  Horse 
Road  into  the  Delmas  Farm,  to  Lockwood's  Hollow, 
through  the  Leopard  to  Hawthorne,  where  they  swung 
down-country  to  Old  Square,  when  at  a  moment's  check 
they  went  on  to  the  Hospital  Farm,  where,  in  doing  the 
in  and  out  over  the  railroad,  Miss  Frances  Stokes's  horse 
went  down  on  the  ice,  breaking  her  left  leg  above  the  ankle. 
After  being  put  up,  she  rode  her  horse  out  the  lane  with  Miss 
Barclay  and  Miss  Gladys  Williams,  and  there  met  Plunket 
Stewart's  motor,  which  kindly  took  her  to  the  hospital. 

Hounds  went  on,  crossing  Bryn  Mawr  Avenue  into  the 
Barrens,  to  Foxcroft,  Bromall,  and  down-country  to  the 
Lawrence  Mills. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  31 

Thursday,  yd  February,  1914 

IN  drawing  the  Charlton  Yarnall  Farm,  Radnor  hounds 
harked  to  Sam  Kirk's  pack  that  had  just  found,  and 
Radnor's  field  had  a  hard  gallop  to  get  on  terms  with  the 
two  packs,  which  they  did  in  the  White  Horse  Farm. 

As  we  were  coming  out  by  the  Red  Bridge,  the  wife 
of  a  well-known  M.F.H.  turned  upside  down  in  the  big 
meadow,  but,  fortunately,  it  was  good  falling  to-day,  as 
the  going  was  soft.  Fred  Sturges  and  Ben  Chew  caught 
her  horse,  put  her  up,  and  off"  she  galloped,  never  waiting 
for  them  to  get  up,  and,  as  Fred  Sturges's  "Pocono"  is 
sometimes  hard  to  mount,  he  lost  a  good  part  of  the  run, 
but  finally  caught  up. 

Hounds  ran  with  a  fair  scent  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  over 
the  hill  and  on  to  Malvern  Barrens,  where  another  wife  of 
an  M.F.H.  came  to  grief,  and,  unfortunately,  with  more 
dire  results,  but  to  the  horse  and  not  the  lady.  "Failian," 
Mrs.  Valentine's  good  chestnut  hunter,  put  his  foot  in  a 
deep  frozen  hole,  turned  over,  and  cut  his  leg  badly. 
Howard  Lewis  stopped  the  blood,  and  Mrs.  Howard 
Henry  rode  home  with  her;  but  it  was  Mrs.  Valentine's 
unlucky  day,  as  having  telephoned  for  her  motor,  and 
coming  by  the  corner  at  Old  Square,  it  met  a  Ford  truck 
head  on.  The  result,  as  may  be  imagined,  was  quite  disas- 
trous to  the  Ford.  In  the  meantime,  hounds  had  gone 
through  the  Barrens  and  out  the  upper  end.  Crossing  the 
Sugartown  Road,  they  bore  right-handed  across  the  State 
Road  by  the  Rush  Hospital,  and  fairly  flew  on  up-country 
to  Hershey's  Mill,  where,  instead  of  going  to  earth  as  we 
all  expected,  our  fox  went  on  to  the  Convent;  keeping  it 
on  their  right,  hounds  ran  to  Green  Hill  Station,  then 
left-handed  to  Hoopes  Bros,  and  Thomas  Nurseries,  where 
scent  failed,  as  it  so  often  does  in  these  nurseries;  but, 


32  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

having  had  an  hour  and  fifty  minutes  of  good  galloping, 
every  one  was  quite  ready  to  call  it  quits,  especially  those 
who  had  to  ride  the  thirteen  miles  back  to  kennels. 

There  were  very  few  left  at  the  bitter  end;  only  Horace 
Hare,  M.F.H.;  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Ned  Blabon; 
Antelo  and  Mrs.  Devereux;  "Pick"  Harrison;  Mrs.  Bill 
Clothier;  Miss  Ruth  Wood;  "Bill"  Warden;  Mr.  Fiske; 
and  "Jack"  Caffery. 

Tuesday,  $ist  March,  1914 

THERE  is  always  a  great  satisfaction  in  ending  anything 
well,  whether  it's  a  story,  a  love  affair,  or  a  hunting  season. 
Hounds  did  it  to-day  to  the  Queen's  taste. 

Meeting  at  the  kennels  at  seven  A.M.,  hounds  found 
their  fox  in  Dr.  Bartholomew's  Wood,  and,  although  the 
sun  was  hot  and  horses  lathered  from  the  start,  ran  their 
fox  for  two  hours  and  twenty  minutes  with  hardly  a  check 
worth  mentioning.  Joe  Serrill  viewed  this  fox  crossing  the 
Leopard  Road,  hounds  running  with  a  breast-high  scent 
into  the  Delmas  Farm,  to  Mr.  Pepper's,  Lockwood's 
Hollow,  Van  Meeter's,  and  Cathcart's  Rocks,  where  a 
Boy  Scout  viewed  again,  then  on  to  William  Evans's,  the 
Boyer  Davis  Farm,  and  into  the  Malvern  Barrens. 
Racing  through  covert,  hounds  crossed  the  road  into  the 
Rush  Hospital,  where  a  man  working  on  a  roof  viewed 
again  and  waved  us  on  up-country;  and,  keeping  Gosh- 
enville  to  their  right,  hounds  ran  in  sight  of  their  fox 
through  an  orchard,  and,  turning  homewards,  came  back 
to  the  Barrens,  on  down  through  Evans's  to  the  White 
Horse  Farm,  where  we  viewed  again,  with  the  fox  barely 
a  hundred  yards  in  front  of  hounds.  But  Reynard 
made  the  wood  first,  hounds  pushing  him  on  to  Lock- 
wood's  Hollow;  where,  as  some  one  said,  it  was  a  pity  to 


MRS.  JOHN  R.  VALENTINE  ON       FAILIAN 
1914 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  33 

kill  a  good  vixen,  hounds  were  whipped  off  and  the  season 
closed. 

There  were  only  eight  of  us  out:  Horace  Hare;  Mr. 
Fiske;  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Mrs.  Sharp;  "Bill"  Rolin; 
and  Frank  Lloyd. 


SEASON  OF  1914-1915 


SEASON  OF  1914-1915 

IT  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  those  hunting  people  who 
never  begin  hunting  until  the  regular  season  commences, 
in  November,  miss  half  the  delights  of  the  game.  Any- 
thing that  one  gets  real  enjoyment  from  is  worth  a  little 
hardship;  and  it  certainly  pays  in  regard  to  hunting. 

It  seems  like  getting  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  the 
first  time  one  does  it;  but  that  good  early  morning  smell; 
the  hack  to  covert  in  the  dark;  and  the  glorious  music  of 
about  thirty  couples  of  hounds  as  they  go  swishing  through 
the  wet  grass;  a  field  of  only  three  or  four  out  and  all  in 
rat-catcher  kit,  and  all  with  the  same  trend  of  thought! 
Who  is  the  "lay-a-bed"  chap  who  says  it  does  not  pay? 
He's  never  tried  it;  that's  the  reason  he  talks  as  he  does. 

"But  what  a  blessing  it  is,"  as  my  father  used  to  say, 
"that  we  all  don't  think  alike."  Otherwise,  there  would 
be  no  nice  small  fields  in  August  and  September,  and  we 
would  not  have  that  feeling,  after  a  morning's  cubbing,  of 
having  sort  of  "put  one  over"  on  the  other  fellows. 

The  present  generation  of  sportsmen  —  and  especially 
the  younger  ones  —  are  a  bit  prone  to  want  their  sport 
made  easy  for  them.  Motors,  too,  have  quite  taken  away 
one  of  the  most  delightful  parts  of  a  day's  hunting;  that  of 
hacking  to  the  meet  and  the  hack  home  with  a  congenial 
friend;  a  good  pipe  of  tobacco  and  maybe  a  nip  or  two 
from  a  flask;  and,  as  Sabretache,  in  his  "Pictures  in  the 
Fire,"  says: 

"How  often  in  riding  to  the  meet  have  you  met  and 
been  greatly  amused  by  overtaking  a  chap  who  evidently 
had  gotten  out  of  bed  that  morning  with  the  wrong  foot 


38  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

first.  Nothing  is  right  with  him  or  his  world;  horse  won't 
walk;  there's  a  button  giving  him  Hades  inside  his  boot; 
the  bad- worded  groom  has  put  on  the  very  saddle  that  he 
does  n't  like;  it's  a  rotten  part  of  the  country  we  are  going 
into;  not  a  dog's  earthly  of  a  gallop,  and,  even  if  we  do,  the 
whole  place  is  wired  like  a  mouse- trap;  then,  cuss  these 
motors  that  make  his  nasty,  flashy,  washy  chestnut  shy 
and  go  up  on  the  bank;  dash  the  wind  that  won't  let  him 
light  a  cigarette;  and  if  ever  he  rides  that  horse  again  may 
he  be  boiled;  he'd  sell  him  for  half-a-pound  of  tea  (rather 
a  high  figure  to  put  on  him  in  these  days);  and  why  the 
devil  grooms  put  on  odd  leathers  and  can't  take  the 
trouble  to  burnish  one's  irons,  blessed  if  he  knows  .  .  .  and 
so  forth  and  so  on!  Poor  old  thing!  He's  bound  to  be  in 
trouble,  a  man  like  this,  who  starts  out  looking  for  it. 
First  thing  that  happens  to  him  is  that  the  chestnut,  who 
will  not  wait  his  turn  at  a  gate,  bangs  his  knee  against  it, 
and  then,  raking  at  his  bridle,  nearly  puts  one  of  his 
thumbs  out  of  joint  against  the  breast-plate;  next  thing,  at 
a  small  place  that  a  donkey  could  jump,  the  chestnut  drops 
his  hind  legs  in,  and  flounders  and  sprawls  in  a  manner 
that  nearly  causes  the  owner  to  leave  the  plate.  Know 
him?  Of  course,  you  know  him,  so  do  we  all!" 

So  different  from  the  other  kind  of  fellow,  who,  like  the 
"lady"  who  went  to  the  ball-dance  and  said  she'd  had  a 
splendid  time  —  three  falls,  four  Scotches,  and  a  mazurka 
—  is  full  of  beans  and  benevolence,  no  matter  what 
happens.  When  you  meet  him  after  the  first  scene  of  the 
first  act,  —  say  after  those  men  on  the  haystack  have  in- 
terfered with  the  plot  as  originally  arranged  by  the  high- 
class  expert  who  is  hunting  the  hounds,  —  he  has  a  nasty 
red-mark  bang  across  his  nose,  there's  a  hole  in  the  top  of 
his  new  "Hard-hitter,"  and  the  nice-looking  bay  five- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  39 

year-old  he  is  riding  has  a  large  consignment  of  Chester 
County  distributed  over  his  forehead-band  and  face.  Mr. 
Fuller-Beans  says,  in  reply  to  your  inquiry  about  the 
bouleversement:  "Not  a  bit,  old  cock!  And  he's  never  put 
a  foot  wrong  since !  A  real  topper,  and  he  '11  make  up  into 
one  of  the  very  best."  And  that  nice,  persevering  young 
bay  horse  does  perform  brilliantly  in  Act  II,  just  because 
he  realizes  that  Mr.  Fuller-Beans's  heart  is  in  the  right 
place,  and  that  a  little  matter  like  that  fall  over  the  bit  of 
a  stick  that  mended  that  gap  is  not  the  kind  of  thing  that 
is  going  to  choke  him  off  or  upset  his  temper.  However, 
it  takes  all  kinds  of  people  to  make  up  the  world,  and 
most  of  them  are  pretty  nice,  especially  the  ladies. 

Hounds  went  cubbing  for  the  first  time  in  1915,  on 
August  3 1st,  at  five- thirty  from  the  kennels.  From  then 
on,  until  the  opening  of  the  season,  sport  was  fair,  with  a 
good  showing  of  cubs,  but  very  dry  weather,  which  inter- 
fered with  scent  at  times. 

Horace  B.  Hare,  M.F.H.,  Harry  W.  Harrison,  Francis 
V.  Lloyd,  and  Mrs.  Victor  C.  Mather  have  been  the  regu- 
lars out;  but  the  meet  at  Happy  Creek  Farms  on  Saturday, 
7th  November,  brought  out  a  field  of  forty-five.  Hounds 
met  as  usual  on  the  lawn  at  ten  o'clock;  but  the  country 
was  so  dry  that  scent  was  poor  all  day.  Finding  their 
first  fox  in  Innes's  Wood,  hounds  ran  to  Brooks's  Wood, 
turned  east  and  worked  slowly  out  to  the  Leopard  Road, 
where  they  gave  it  up.  A  second  fox  was  viewed  away 
from  Dr.  Bartholomew's  Wood,  hounds  crossing  the  road 
into  Mr.  Pepper's,  then  left-handed  to  the  Delmas  Farm, 
over  the  White  Horse  Road  to  Innes's  Wood,  and  on  down 
country  to  earth  in  Harrison's  meadow.  Hounds  then 
pushed  a  third  fox  out  of  Mr.  John  Brown's  covert,  but 
could  do  nothing  with  it,  so  were  taken  home. 


4o  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

BRYN  MAWR  HOUND  SHOW 
September,  1914 

THE  first  step  in  any  direction  is  always  the  hardest,  and 
John  Valentine,  Plunket  Stewart,  and  I  did  a  lot  of  talk- 
ing, thinking,  and  scheming  before  we  finally  decided  to 
try  and  hold  a  Hound  Show  in  connection  with  the  Bryn 
Mawr  Horse  Show. 

We  finally  called  a  meeting  of  the  Masters  of  Hounds  of 
the  neighborhood,  and,  finding  it  was  agreeable  to  them, 
set  to  work  to  raise  the  necessary  funds. 

That  good  sportsman,  Mr.  Beale,  was  the  first  to  make 
a  donation,  and  from  then  on  things  went  quite  smoothly. 
We  elected  officers,  etc.,  made  up  our  classes,  sent  out 
notices,  and  finally  the  entry  blanks,  with  the  following 
Committees,  Judges,  etc.: 

COMMITTEES 

EXECUTIVE  COMMITTEE 
John  R.  Valentin?,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,      J.  Stanley  Reex^e,  Esq.,  Secretary. 

Chairman.       Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
W.  Plunket  Stewart,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,  Samuel  D.  Riddle,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

Treasurer.      A.  Henry  Higginson,  Esq.,M.F.H. 

COMMITTEE  ON  AMERICAN  Fox  HOUNDS 

S.  D.   Riddle,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,  M.  R.  Jackson,  Esq.,  M.F.H., 

Chairman.  Secretary. 

William  J.  Clothier,  Esq.,  M.F.H.     W.  P.  Stewart,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

COMMITTEE  ON  ENGLISH  Fox  HOUNDS 

Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,     A.  Henry  Higginson,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
Chairman.  Secretary. 

Watson  Webb,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  John  R.  Townsend,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

COMMITTEE  ON  HALF-BRED  Fox  HOUNDS 

Horace  B.  Hare,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,          J.  Stanley  Reeve,  Esq.,  Secretary 
Chairman.       Wallace  W.Lanahan,Esq.,M.F.H. 
Redmond  C.  Stewart,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  41 

COMMITTEE  ON  BEAGLES 

W.  Plunket  Stewart,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,    William  W.  Justice,  Jr.,  Esq., 

Chairman.  Secretary 

Clarence  Clark,  III,  Esq.,  M.B.H.,      R.  Penn  Smith,  Jr.,  Esq. 
Thomas  Cadwalader,  Esq. 

HONORARY  COMMITTEE 

F.  A.  Bonsall,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  Harry  Nicholas,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

Benj.  H.  Brewster,  Esq.,  M.F.H.      James  Parke,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
Sir  Adam  Beck,  M.F.H.  S.  D.  Riddle,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

George  Beardmore,  Esq.,  M.F.H.     J.  Stanley  Reeve,  Esq. 
William  J.  Clothier,  Esq.,  M.F.H.    Redmond  C.  Stewart,  Esq.,M.F.H. 
R.  L.  Gerry,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  W.  P.  Stewart,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

John  J.  Gheen,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  D.  Sands,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

Thomas  Hitchcock,  Esq.,  M.F.H.     J.  R.  Thomas,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
Horace  B.  Hare,  Esq.,  M.F.H.          J.  R.  Townsend,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
A.  Henry  Higginson,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  Oakleigh  Thorn,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
M.  R.  Jackson,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  Henry  G.  Vaughan,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

W.  Lester  Jones,  Esq.,  M.F.H.         John  R.  Valentine,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
Samuel  Kirk,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  Watson  Webb,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

W.  A.  Larned,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  W.  A.  Wadsworth,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

Wallace  W.  Lanahan,  Esq.,  M.F.H.  W.  F.  Wilbur,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
J.  G.  Leiper,  Jr.,  Esq.,  M.F.H.         W.  C.  Wilson,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq.,  M.F.H.     Dr.  R.  E.  Webster,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 
A.  E.  Ogilvie,  Esq.,  M.F.H. 

HOUND  SHOW  JUDGES 

AMERICAN  HOUNDS 

A.  C.  Heffenger,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Portsmouth,  N.H. 
Dr.  Charles  F.  Oat,  West  Chester. 

ENGLISH  AND  HALF-BRED  HOUNDS 

Foxhall  P.  Keene,  Esq.,  New  York 
Edward  H.  Carle,  Esq.,  Millbrook,  N.Y. 

BEAGLES 

Thomas  Cadwalader,  Esq.,  Philadelphia 
Elliot  C.  Cowdin,  Esq.,  New  York 

The  entries  quite  surprised  us,  and  at  closing  time  we 
had  hounds  and  beagles  from  twenty-one  of  the  foremost 
kennels  in  America,  namely:  Myopia,  Brandywine,  Ches- 


42  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

hire,  Elkridge,  Green  Spring  Valley,  Harford  County, 
Middlesex,  Mr.  McComb's  Hounds,  Meadow  Brook, 
Piedmont,  Pickering,  Radnor,  Rose  Tree,  Mr.  Riddle's, 
White  Marsh  Valley,  and  Wheatley  Beagles,  Radnor 
Beagles,  Mr.  Justice's  Beagles,  Mr.  Barnard's  Beagles, 
Mr.  Rieger's  and  Somerset  Beagles. 

Showing  fox  hounds  was  more  or  less  of  a  new  game  to 
many  of  the  Masters,  but  it  was  most  encouraging  to 
some  of  us  who  had  worked  over  the  show  to  see  their  en- 
thusiasm and  to  have  their  support;  and,  whether  their 
hounds  won  or  lost,  they  all  promised  to  come  back  next 
year. 

Wednesday,  iSth  November,  1914 

As  Chester  County  and  the  Radnor  side  of  Delaware 
County  are  under  quarantine,  owing  to  the  epidemic  of 
hoof  and  mouth  disease,  Radnor  hounds  are  forced  to  re- 
main in  kennels. 

As  Rose  Tree,  under  M.  Roy  Jackson,  M.F.H.,  are  still 
going  out,  Plunket  Stewart,  Fred  Sturges,  and  I  had  a 
most  enjoyable  day  with  them,  meeting  at  the  Rose  Tree 
kennels  at  eight-thirty,  with  a  small  field  of  eight,  in- 
cluding Mrs.  Sellers,  Emanuel  Hey,  "Lee"  Riddle,  George 
Donnon,  and  a  colored  man,  who  annoyed  Plunket  Stew- 
art greatly,  by  being  always  just  in  front  of  him,  until 
hounds  found  and  were  really  away,  when  we  had  things 
all  to  ourselves,  while  it  lasted;  but  the  pleasure  was  short, 
though  exciting,  nevertheless. 

After  drawing  several  large  coverts,  a  fox  was  finally 
viewed  away  from  Darlington's  Thicket;  hounds  giving 
volumes  of  tongue  and,  only  two  fields  behind  their  fox, 
raced  him  for  about  five  minutes,  catching  up  with  him 
at  a  worm  fence;  the  fox  zigzaging  through  it,  with  hounds 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  43 

snapping  at  him  from  all  sides,  until  at  a  corner  in  the 
fence  they  rolled  him  over,  when,  much  to  our  surprise,  the 
fox  jumped  out  of  the  middle  of  the  pack  and  ran  into  a 
wood.  Going  through  the  wood  into  one  Harry  Phillips's 
farmyard,  hounds  rolled  him  over  again.  We  thought,  of 
course,  hounds  had  certainly  killed  this  time;  but  luck  was 
with  this  fox,  for,  when  we  galloped  down  the  lane  into 
the  yard,  instead  of  finding  hounds  breaking  him  up, 
there  sat  Reynard  on  the  window-sill,  inside  the  spring- 
house,  looking  out  and  making  faces  at  the  hounds. 

Plunket  Stewart's  big  grey  "Ben"  fell  on  a  slippery 
bank,  just  at  the  spring-house,  but,  fortunately,  with  no 
very  serious  results. 

5th  January,  1915 

HOUNDS  were  quarantined  until  New  Year's  Day,  so  we 
missed  the  six  best  weeks  of  the  season;  but  such  is  fate. 

The  first  draw  to-day  was  Broadlawn,  but  found  it 
blank,  and  in  working  up  the  creak  found  a  fox  on  foot  in 
Castle  Rocks,  but  he  loved  his  home  too  well  and  popped 
under  in  a  very  few  minutes. 

On  crossing  the  Pike  into  Delchester  Farms,  a  good  fox 
went  out  of  covert,  hounds  working  it  slowly,  and  at  a 
nice  hand  gallop,  for  an  hour  and  ten  minutes.  Coming  out 
of  Delchester,  hounds  crossed  the  Goshen  Road  into  Fairy 
Hill,  through  it  to  the  Bryn  Clovis  Dairy,  over  the  Sugar- 
town  Road  into  William  Evans's  wood,  where  accidents  be- 
gan to  happen.  Mrs.  Fred  Sturges  hit  the  limb  of  a  tree 
and  had  a  very  bloody  nose,  as  did  Ben  Chew.  I  had  a  fall 
on  the  frozen  ground  over  the  fence  into  Evans's  meadow, 
and  Harry  Harrison  did  likewise  a  few  minutes  later. 

Hounds  ran  on  slowly  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  made  a  cir- 
cle of  the  White  Horse  Farm,  going  back  to  the  Rocks  and 


44  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

out  the  other  side  to  Van  Meeter's,  where,  at  a  check,  they 
were  taken  home. 

Thursday,  iqth  January,  1915 

HOUNDS  met  at  the  kennels  at  ten-thirty,  with  a  good 
share  of  the  field  made  up  of  the  fair  sex;  and  what  could 
be  more  delightful?  We  hacked  up  the  Goshen  Road  to 
Brooks's  Wood,  and  it  fell  to  my  good  fortune  to  ride  with 
a  most  beautiful  and  dashing  young  lady,  who  was  very 
evidently  trying  in  a  roundabout  way  to  lead  me  to  believe 
that  the  recent  gossip  about  her  and  a  certain  Mr.  G.,  a 
rather  flighty  foxhunter  from  a  neighboring  country,  was 
not  true.  I,  apparently,  swallowed  it  all,  but  know  other- 
wise, as  I  happened  to  be  there,  as  Buck  would  say,  "me- 
self." 

However,  I  don't  blame  the  man  at  all,  and,  besides, 
what  can  a  gentleman  do,  under  the  circumstances,  espe- 
cially when  the  lady  is  so  extremely  alluring?  And  what 's 
more,  she  goes  —  well  to  hounds  too.  Women  and  hounds 
are  a  bad  combination,  and,  when  taken  separately,  they 
often  enough  lead  to  as  much  mischief  as  when  combined. 
But,  be  that  as  it  may,  when  we  arrived  at  Brooks's  Wood, 
Horace  Hare  discovered  that  Sam  Kirk's  hounds  were  in 
covert  ahead  of  us.  He  passed  the  word  along,  and  we  gal- 
loped "hell  for  leather"  to  the  covered  bridge  and  put 
hounds  into  Mr.  Yarnall's  covert  before  Kirkie  reached 
there.  They  opened  up  at  once,  just  beyond  the  lake,  run- 
ning with  a  beautiful  cry  up  the  hillside,  where  we  viewed 
our  fox,  creeping  along  the  foundations  of  Mr.  Yarnall's 
new  house,  just  as  hounds  rolled  him  over. 

When  Horace  and  Will  Leverton  were  doing  the  honors 
over  Reynard's  remains,  it  was  discovered  he  had  one  hind 
leg  fast  in  a  steel  trap,  with  about  twelve  inches  of  heavy 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  45 

chain  attached  to  the  trap,  so  no  wonder  the  poor  fox 
was  caught  so  quickly.  With  Will  Leverton  riding  in  front, 
holding  the  fox,  trap,  and  chain,  we  all  very  solemnly 
rode  over  to  Mr.  Yarnall's  farmhouse,  called  the  farmer 
out,  presented  him  with  the  fox,  and  told  him  to  keep  it 
and  show  it  to  Mr.  Yarnall.  Of  course,  he  said  he  did  n't 
set  the  trap,  etc.  But  —  it  should  n't  occur. 

Solemnly  we  moved  on,  hoping  the  farmer  had  been 
deeply  impressed  with  the  seriousness  of  the  situation,  and, 
on  reaching  Cathcart's  Rocks,  "Pick"  Harrison  viewed 
another  fox  out  the  upper  side  of  covert.  Hounds  were 
lifted  to  the  view,  took  it  up  at  once,  and  swung  left- 
handed  back  to  the  Rocks  and  out  the  other  side,  as  if  go- 
ing down-country.  Most  of  the  field  had  galloped  up  the 
hill  back  of  covert,  so,  when  hounds  came  crashing  back 
over  the  creek  and  out  the  upper  end  again,  nearly  every 
one  had  a  bad  start.  But  a  few  of  us  were  on  the  inside  of 
the  circle  and  had  a  beautiful  gallop  to  "Bill"  Evans's  and 
through  Boyer  Davis's,  to  the  earth  outside  the  Malvern 
Barrens,  where  hounds  marked  their  fox  to  ground. 

Our  third  fox  must  have  had  a  lady-love  in  covert,  for 
he  would  not  go  out  and  run.  Several  times  hounds  pushed 
him  out  a  few  yards,  when  he  would  turn  back,  and  on  one 
occasion  Ned  Blabon  tried  to  head  him  off,  but  the  fox 
dodged  around  his  horse  and  beat  him  to  it. 

Saturday,  i6th  January,  1915 

IT'S  a  long,  long  drill  to  Goshen  School,  where  we  met  this 
beautiful  day;  and  after  finding  Shellbark  and  Hershey's 
Mill  blank,  worked  down-country  to  Charles  Cox's,  where 
a  good  stout  fox  broke  right  in  front  of  hounds,  and  we 
were  sailing  along  when  my  faithful  horse  "Castlereagh" 
put  me  down  in  a  wood  lane,  just  below  Rocky  Hill. 


46  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Jack  Caffery  caught  my  horse,  and,  after  a  short  gallop, 
caught  hounds  at  a  check  and  just  in  time  to  see  Sam  Chew 
and  "Jim  Bloodso"  slide  around  the  corner  at  Rocky  Hill 
on  their  backs.  I  thought  I  was  muddy,  but  Sam  did  me 
one  better. 

Hounds  now  turned  sharply  east,  and,  keeping  the  Mal- 
vern  Barrens  on  their  right,  crossed  the  State  Road  into 
the  Hog  Lane  Woods,  then  on  up-country  to  Hershey's 
Mill,  where  they  turned  again,  and  heading  down-country 
fairly  flew  towards  the  Malvern  Barrens. 

Where  hounds  finally  flew  to,  I  have  n't  heard,  for  I 
stopped  in  the  Stuart  Farm  with  Bob  Montgomery,  to  see 
if  we  could  do  anything  to  help  Alexander  D.  "Rudder" 
Grange,  whose  horse,  "Golden  Glow,"  had  turned  over  on 
him,  in  jumping  a  fence  out  of  a  soft  cornfield.  He  looked  in 
pretty  bad  shape  when  we  carried  him  into  the  Stuart  cot- 
tage on  a  shutter,  and  Dr.  Kurtz,  of  Malvern,  who  arrived 
soon  after,  confirmed  our  worst  fears.  It  seemed  hours  be- 
fore the  ambulance  from  the  Bryn  Mawr  Hospital  came; 
but,  fortunately,  unconsciousness  relieved  his  suffering, 
and,  in  spite  of  an  operation,  as  the  last  resort,  he  died 
Tuesday  morning. 

Monday,  22nd  February,  1915 
"  Washington's  Birthday  " 

"Too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth,"  and  I  Ve  often  felt  that 
too  many  packs  of  hounds  spoil  a  hunt;  but  I  was  wrong 
to-day,  for,  despite  having  three  packs  together,  hounds 
ran  two  hours  and  fifteen  minutes. 

We  met  at  White  Horse  —  Radnor,  Kirk's,  and  Sen-ill's 
hounds  —  and,  as  they  moved  off,  I  could  n't  help  thinking 
of  the  poem  about  Andy  Hartigan's  bobbery  pack,  that 
came  out  in  Punchy  some  time  ago. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  47 

THE  BOBBERY  PACK 

Andy  Hartigan's  dead  and  gone 

Over  the  hills  and  further  yet, 

But  he  drank  good  port  and  his  red  face  shone 

Like  a  cider  apple  of  Somerset. 

Ten  strange  couples  o'  hounds  he  had  — 
"Gaunt"  old  brutes  that  had  hunted  fox 
Back  in  the  days  when  Noah  was  a  lad, 
Touched  in  the  bellows  and  gone  at  the  hocks  — 

Hounds  he'd  stole  from  a  Harrier  pack, 
Hounds  he'd  borrowed  an'  begged  an'  found, 
Grey  an'  yellow  an'  tan  an'  black, 
Every  conceivable  kind  o'  hound. 

He  called  them  "harriers,"  and  a  few 
WERE  harriers  —  back  when  the  world  began  — 
But  they  were  n't  particular  where  they  drew 
An'  they  were  n't  particular  what  they  ran. 

I  mind  him  once  of  a  bygone  morn, 
Ruddy  an'  round  on  his  flea-bit  horsej 
Twangin'  a  note  on  his  battered  horn 
An'  cappin'  them  into  the  Frenchman  gorse. 

They  pushed  a  brown  hare  out  of  her  form 
An'  swung  on  her  line  with  a  crash  of  tongues: 
But  a  vixen  crossed  an'  her  scent  was  warm, 
So  they  ran  her,  screechin'  to  burst  their  lungs. 

They  ran  her  into  my  lord's  demesne, 
Where  my  lady's  fallows  were  grazing  free; 
They  picked  a  stag  and  followed  again, 
Singing  like  souls  in  ecstasy. 

They  chased  the  stag  up  over  the  ridge 
With  lolling  tongues  an'  with  heaving  flanks; 
They  lost  him  down  by  the  Cluddah  bridge, 
But  killed  an  otter  on  Cluddah's  banks. 

They  had  no  shape  an*  they  had  no  style; 
Their  manners  were  bad  and  their  morals  slack; 
They  were  noisy,  but  wonderful  versatile, 
Andy  Hartigan's  bobbery  pack. 


48  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

But,  unlike  Andy  Hartigan's,  this  mixture  of  blood  and 
color  stuck  to  their  original  quarry,  and  going  away,  like 
the  proverbial  "bat  out  of  hell,"  from  William  Evans's 
meadow,  raced  across  the  White  Horse  Farm  to  Mr.  Yar- 
nall's,  around  his  new  house  and  out  to  the  covered  bridge. 
Crossing  the  Goshen  Road  into  Dr.  Stengle's,  they  sank 
the  vale  into  Shrimer's  Clearing,  on  up-country  to  Dutton's 
Mill,  to  Miss  Hook's,  swinging  right-handed  into  the  Bryn 
Clovis  Dairy  Farm,  and  on  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  where 
some  of  us  thought  he  went  to  earth;  but,  if  he  did,  he 
pushed  another  fresh  fox  out  for  hounds,  for,  after  a  mo- 
ment's check,  they  sailed  on  across  the  Seventy-Six  Farm, 
to  Lockwood's,  Mr.  Pepper's,  Dr.  White's,  and  back  to 
Yarnall's,  where,  at  a  check  by  the  bridge,  the  straggling 
hounds  caught  up.  Horace  Hare  made  a  forward  cast  over 
the  road;  hounds  opened  up  to  the  line  at  once  and  took 
us  up-country  again  to  Delchester,  where  scent  failed. 

Out  of  a  field  of  fifty  at  the  start,  only  ten  survived  the 
day.  Accidents  were  numerous,  but  not  serious.  Miss 
Rulon  Miller  turned  a  corner  too  fast,  back  of  Dutton's 
Mill,  and  went  down;  Mrs.  FrazierHarrison'ssaddle  turned, 
and  she  came  to  grief;  Gerry  Leiper's  horse  fell  on  the 
Sugartown  Road;  and  Charlie  Munn  took  a  beautiful  fall, 
somewhere,  I  can't  remember  the  exact  spot. 

Those  at  the  end  were:  Horace  Hare,  M.F.H.;  Ned  and 
Miss  Dougherty;  Harry  Barclay;  Fred  Sturges;  Lemuel 
Altemus;  Sam  Kirk;  Walter  Stokes;  and  Gerry  Leiper. 

Tuesday,  2yd  March,  1915 

ANOTHER  hunting  season  closed  to-day  with  a  most  fitting 
ending.  Hounds  ran  an  hour  and  fifty-five  minutes,  with 
only  one  check,  and  that  of  only  four  minutes,  covering 
quite  nineteen  miles  and  taking  us  clear  out  of  our  country. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  49 

It  adds  so  much  to  a  run  if  hounds  take  one  out  of  one's 
own  country;  especially,  if  it's  the  last  run  of  the  season, 
then  you  have  something  a  little  bit  better  than  the  other 
good  days  to  think  about  all  during  the  summer  months, 
or  until  about  the  middle  of  July,  when  you  bring  your 
horses  in  from  grass  and  begin  to  think  about  cubbing. 

At  the  invitation  of  Samuel  Kirk,  Radnor  and  Sen-ill's 
hounds  met  with  his  hounds  at  Kirk's  farm,  at  ten-thirty, 
and  found  immediately  just  outside  Kirk's  wood;  the  forty- 
two  and  one  half  couples  going  away  at  a  racing  clip  to  the 
Edgemont  Road,  into  John  Converse's  farm  and  on  to 
Pratt's  wood,  where  some  one  viewed  the  fox  crossing  the 
road  into  Delchester.  Hounds  ran  straight  across  the  big 
Delchester  fields  into  Button's  Mill,  where  they  turned 
sharply  left-handed,  going  back  to  the  edge  of  Delchester, 
where  a  fresh  fox,  a  vixen,  jumped  up  right  in  front  of  the 
pack  and  went  to  earth  in  the  next  field.  The  hunted  fox 
was  viewed  crossing  the  West  Chester  Pike  at  the  Street 
Road.  Will  Leverton  lifted  hounds  to  the  view,  when  they 
owned  the  line  at  once,  running  with  a  good  scent  through 
Greenbriar  Thicket,  and,  sinking  the  valley,  took  us  up- 
country  for  a  couple  of  miles,  over  a  lovely  bit  of  country, 
nearly  to  Westtown;  but,  keeping  it  on  their  right,  hounds 
turned  left  again  and,  going  entirely  out  of  our  country, 
crossed  the  Chester  Creek  at  Locksley  Station,  then  up  the 
hill  and  straight  on  southeast  to  the  House  of  Refuge, 
making  a  big  circle  through  some  stone  quarries,  crossed  a 
high  railroad  embankment  that  was  a  mean  one  to  ride 
down,  and  on  to  Markham,  where  they  swung  a  bit  left- 
handed  to  Concordville,  and,  racing  down  a  beautiful  long 
meadow  with  the  fox  continually  in  view,  hounds  only 
just  back  of  him,  it  looked  as  if  Reynard  would  lose 
his  brush  for  certain;  but  he  gave  hounds  the  slip,  put  them 


50  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

to  their  noses  again,  and,  on  reaching  a  hilltop,  we  could 
see  our  fox,  barely  able  to  crawl,  being  chased  by  a  man 
only  two  fields  ahead  of  hounds.  A  friendly  lane  here  gave 
us  a  short  cut,  and,  on  galloping  up,  instead  of  finding 
hounds  worrying  their  fox,  we  found  the  aforementioned 
man  standing  up  in  a  motor  in  front  of  the  Chester 
Heights  Church,  holding  the  fox  by  the  back  of  its  neck, 
with  the  forty- two  and  one  half  couples  of  hounds  giving 
him  a  very  nervous  time.  Will  Leverton  and  Sam  Kirk 
soon  relieved  his  anxiety,  and  we  started  a  long  fourteen 
miles  back  home  via  Sycamore  Mills. 

We  were  so  far  out  of  our  own  country  at  one  time  that 
not  one  of  the  field  knew  where  we  were;  but  on  coming  on 
to  a  road  I  saw  a  sign-post,  marking  the  Pennsylvania  and 
Delaware  boundary.  We  went  a  couple  of  miles  farther 
south  from  this  point,  so  were  well  within  the  Delaware 
State  lines. 

All  that  were  left  out  of  a  field  of  over  fifty,  were: 
John  R.  Valentine,  ex-M.F.H.,  of  Radnor;  Fred  Sturges 
on  "Cheavau";  Nelson  Buckley  on  "Ruskin";  Ned 
Dougherty;  Miss  Ruth  Wood  on  the  little  grey  Arab; 
Grafton  Pyne,  of  New  York;  Lehrman  Stuart,  of  Balti- 
more; Gerry  Leiper;  Sam  Pinkerton,  Rose  Tree's  ex-hunts- 
man; Dr.  Evans  following  along  the  roads  in  a  motor;  and 
Dr.  Edgar  Powell  on  a  chestnut  three-year-old. 


SEASON  OF  1915-1916 


SEASON  OF  1915-1916 

A  GOOD  many  years  ago,  some  one  said  —  "A  pack  of  hounds 
was  never  successfully  hunted  by  a  Committee."  It's  been 
tried  lots  of  times,  not  only  here  at  Radnor,  but  in  other 
places,  so  when  Horace  Hare  resigned  the  Mastership,  and 
a  Hunt  Committee  was  elected  at  the  Annual  Meeting, 
there  were  many  misgivings,  until  Benjamin  Chew  was 
elected  Master  in  the  spring  of  1915.  He  had  the  happy 
faculty  of  imbuing  new  life  and  enthusiasm  in  the  Radnor 
foxhunters,  besides  which,  by  his  efforts,  the  much-needed 
improvements  to  the  Club  House  were  accomplished,  the 
kennels  and  stables  done  over,  everything  painted,  and 
our  previous  steward,  Louis  Meimbresse,  reinstated  when 
the  alterations  were  completed. 

Cubbing  started  August  loth,  at  5  A.M.  from  the  ken- 
nels; Will  Leverton  hunting  the  bitch  pack  of  twenty  cou- 
ples, including  the  young  lady  entry,  with  Harry  Brown  as 
whipper-in.  Only  four  of  us  turned  up  at  the  meet,  Ben 
Chew,  M.F.H.,  William  E.  Carter,  and  William,  Jr.  We 
were  all  delighted  the  way  the  young  hounds  entered  to 
their  work,  and  went  home  to  breakfast  that  morning 
with  that  wonderful  feeling  that  another  hunting  season 
had  started,  and  started  well. 

Cubs  and  foxes  were  very  plentiful,  hounds  giving  us 
some  splendid  mornings  right  on  through  to  the  opening  of 
the  regular  season. 

On  August  1 8th,  I  had  my  first  day  with  Plunket 
Stewart's  new  Cheshire  hounds,  which  met  on  the  lawn  at 
five-thirty  and  found  a  good  running  cub,  just  back  of  the 
kennels,  that  gave  us  a  very  satisfactory  morning  of  two 


54  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

hours  and  a  half,  and,  when  we  pulled  out  at  eight  o'clock, 
hounds  were  still  going.  I  had  a  very  nice  ride  on  a  mare 
named  "Rapacious,"  that  afterwards  was  raced  with  some 
success  by  Antelo  Devereux. 

Saturday,  ^th  December,  1915 

THAT  very  good  friend  of  Radnor,  Sam  Kirk,  gave  another 
of  his  celebrated  breakfasts  at  his  farm  at  White  Horse; 
hounds  meeting  at  eleven  o'clock  with  both  Kirk's  and 
Radnor  hounds  in  the  stable-yard. 

They  found  almost  immediately,  going  away  towards 
White  Horse,  with  a  field  of  over  eighty  that  seemed  a  bit 
unruly  at  first,  but  at  the  pace  hounds  set,  things  were  not 
congested  long.  Hounds  checked  a  moment  in  John  Con- 
verse's farm,  then  raced  on  into  Delchester,  where  Alec 
Brown  and  Henry  Collins  came  to  grief  over  a  big  fence 
out  of  the  orchard,  and  where  hounds  marked  their  fox  to 
ground. 

William  Evans  had  a  fall  over  a  wire  fence  back  of  the 
little  schoolhouse  and  cut  his  horse's  leg  quite  badly. 

Two  foxes  went  out  of  the  main  Delchester  covert  at  the 
next  draw,  hounds  settling  on  the  line  of  one  that  took 
them  back  to  White  Horse,  through  Fairy  Hill  to  the 
Klemm  Farm,  and  on  to  ground  in  the  Malvern  Barrens. 
Another  fox  was  found  in  the  Barrens,  hounds  pushing  him 
out  the  lower  side,  where  we  viewed  him  pointing  towards 
the  big  earth  on  the  Disston  property.  Fred  Sturges  gal- 
loped to  the  earth  and  kept  the  fox  from  going  under.  Rey- 
nard then  started  down-country,  but,  keeping  the  White 
Horse  Farms  on  his  left,  made  for  Evans's  meadow,  then 
on  to  Fairy  Hill,  through  the  cemetery,  across  the  road, 
and,  turning  right-handed  at  the  back  of  the  Penn  Tavern, 
hounds  pushed  him  to  earth  also  in  Delchester,  after  a  very 


Photograph  hv  Kelly  «r  Way 

BENJAMIN  CHEW,  ESQ.,  M.F.H.  ON  "OVIAT" 

J.  STANLEY  REEVE,  ESQ.,  ON  "  POACHER" 
At  the  opening  meet  of  the  Season  at  Happy  Creek  Farms,  October  30,  1915 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  55 

fast  eighteen  minutes,  and  after  which  they  were  taken 
home. 

Some  of  those  out  were:  Sam  Kirk,  M.F.H.;  Benjamin 
Chew,  M.F.H.,  on  "Oviat";  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  on 
"Greymaster";  Miss  Rose  Dolan  on  "Circus";  Miss  Ruth 
Wood;  Mrs.  Victor  C.  Mather;  Antelo  and  Mrs.  Dever- 
eux;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  Paul  and  Mrs.  Mills;  Charlie 
and  Mrs.  Munn;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Fred  and 
Mrs.  Sturges;  Lawrence  Bodine;  Louis  S.  Fiske;  W.  M. 
Kerr;  Ned  Blabon;  Harry  Harrison;  Walter  and  Lowber 
Stokes;  Miss  Fox;  Mr.  Beale;  Lem  Altemus;  Mrs.  C.  R. 
Snowden;  Alec  Brown;  Hinckle  Smith;  and  Frank  Lloyd. 

Sunday,  \2th  December,  1915 

IF  it  had  n't  snowed,  what  a  sporting  tour  we  would  have 
had !  And  as  it  turned  out,  we  had  a  real  time,  but  of  a  dif- 
ferent sort  than  anticipated. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  Charles  E.  Mather,  Esq., 
M.F.H.  of  the  Brandywine,  and  W.  Plunket  Stewart,  Esq., 
M.F.H.  Cheshire,  the  Radnor  hounds,  Benjamin  Chew, 
Esq.,  M.F.H.,  were  invited  to  hunt  the  Cheshire  country 
on  Tuesday,  the  i4th,  and  the  Radnor  field  invited  to  hunt 
with  the  Cheshire  hounds  on  Monday,  the  I3th,  and  with 
the  Brandywine  at  Marshallton,  on  Wednesday,  the  i4th. 

In  order  to  get  a  good  start  for  the  week,  Mr.  Mather  in- 
vited the  Radnor  beagles,  Clarence  H.  Clarke,  III,  Esq., 
M.B.H.,to  meet  at  his  Brandy  wine  Meadows  Farm  on  Sun- 
day, at  three  o'clock.  So  after  a  luncheon  that  was  much  too 
delicious  and  big  to  run  on,  a  field  of  twenty-five  trailed 
along  after  the  pack,  and,  in  going  into  the  first  field  across 
the  road,  a  rabbit  was  viewed  away  right  in  front  of  hounds, 
but  a  patch  of  briars  saved  his  skin,  and,  after  a  short  walk 
to  a  hilltop,  the  beagles  went  away  like  a  pack  of  fox 


56  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

hounds,  giving  beautiful  tongue,  and,  swinging  right- 
handed,  crossed  a  swamp  on  the  ice  and  made  a  mile  and  a 
half  point  before  turning,  and  finally  brought  us  nearly 
back  to  the  find.  The  Jelly  Dogs  ran  the  legs  off  almost 
the  entire  field,  only  seven  of  us  going  to  the  bitter  end,  and 
we  were  about  all  in.  "Buzzy"  Smith  was  hunting  the 
hounds,  and,  as  we  were  jogging  down  a  road  with  very 
high  banks  on  either  side,  we  heard  a  crushing  noise,  and  a 
dark  object  landed  head-first  in  a  bush  along  the  roadside. 
It  picked  itself  up,  and  turned  out  to  be  Charlie  Da  Costa, 
none  the  worse  for  wear.  Next  Miss  "Letty"  McKeim  fell 
in  a  brook;  the  water  was  cold,  but  felt  good,  I  guess,  for 
she  stayed  on  with  us,  being  the  only  surviving  lady;  the 
rest  of  our  first  flight  being  Ben  Chew,  Plunket  Stewart, 
and  Gilbert  Mather.  It  was  evidently  a  fox's  line,  and  not 
a  rabbit,  the  beagles  were  running. 

Tea,  with  something  in  it,  tasted  pretty  good  when  we 
finally  came  in  and  joined  the  rest  of  the  field  who  had 
fizzed  out  at  varying  stages  in  the  run,  among  them  being: 
the  Misses  Josephine  and  Dorothy  Mather;  Mrs.  Reeve; 
Mrs.  Chew;  Prince  Paul  Troubetzkoy;  Victor  and  Mrs. 
Mather;  R.  Penn  Smith;  Williams  and  Mrs.  Cadwallader; 
and  Mrs.  John  Converse. 

After  tea  we  motored  to  Chesterland,  where  Plunket 
Stewart  was  to  be  our  host  for  the  remainder  of  the  week; 
the  party  consisting  of  Messrs.  Stewart,  Devereux,  Chew, 
Kerr,  Lloyd,  and  Reeve. 

After  seeing  that  the  Radnor  hounds  and  the  forty- 
seven  horses  that  came  up  from  the  Radnor  country  had 
arrived,  and  giving  strict  orders  to  the  very  accommodat- 
ing proprietor  of  the  Union ville  Hotel,  Mr.  Newlin,  where 
our  horses  were  stabled,  that  no  groom  was  to  be  sold  enough 
liquor  to  make  him  drunk,  and  after  filling  up  a  few  cracks 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  57 

in  the  side  of  the  stable  with  straw,  we  decided  to  get  a 
good  night's  sleep,  so  as  to  be  in  fine  trim  for  the  morrow. 

We  were  in  good  trim  when  the  morning  came,  but  sadly 
out  of  luck  as  regards  the  weather,  for  it  was  snowing  hard, 
blowing  a  gale,  and  cold  as  the  North  Pole.  Mrs.  Howard 
Henry  telephoned,  just  as  we  were  getting  up,  to  know  what 
the  weather  was  like  with  us,  so  we  told  her  to  come  on 
over,  and  she  did,  motoring  forty-five  miles  from  Camp 
Hill  in  the  storm  and  wrecking  her  car  on  a  rock  at  the 
gateway.  By  ten  o'clock  we  had  a  fine  party  in  the  making, 
and  it  made  out  splendidly  all  day  and  part  of  it  all  night. 

Nelson  Buckley  and  Chris  Hagen  came  from  the  hotel 
where  they  were  stopping;  Miss  Rose  Dolan  motored  over, 
bringing  Miss  Hopkins,  John  Tucker,  and  "  Buzzy  "  Smith; 
Victor  and  Mrs.  Mather  and  Miss  Josephine  Mather  came 
from  Brandy  wine;  Drexel  Paul  and  Frank  Lloyd  also 
arrived;  altogether  Plunket  had  a  party  of  nineteen  for 
lunch,  with  everybody  hungry  and  thirsty,  and,  as  is 
always  the  case  with  our  host,  there  was  food  and  drink 
for  all. 

Ben  Chew  and  I  walked  through  the  snow  to  Union- 
ville  in  the  afternoon  to  have  a  look  at  the  horses.  Of  the 
others,  some  slept,  some  ate,  and  some  drank;  but  all  were 
merry,  whichever  of  the  three  they  were  doing.  Towards 
evening,  Mr.  B.,  waking  up  and  seeing  Mr.  C.  asleep  by 
the  fire,  with  a  tall  glass  by  his  elbow,  said,  "Now's  my 
chance  to  tell  C.  what  I  think  of  him !  C.,  you  are  a  pink- 
wissered  scoundrel;  but,  if  you  were  awake,  I'd  call  you  a 
gentleman."  Some  one  said,  "A  pink  what?"  and  he  an- 
swered, "Wissered,  wissered,  damn  it!  Don't  you  know 
what  wissers  are?"  He  was  quickly  given  another,  and 
went  peacefully  to  sleep  again.  But  his  name  was  "Wis- 
sers" the  rest  of  the  visit. 


58  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Those  who  had  motored  from  a  distance  had  a  bad  time 
getting  home,  some  of  the  cars  spending  the  rest  of  the  week 
at  Unionville.  By  Tuesday  morning  all  the  roads  were 
blocked  with  snow,  and  the  country  impossible  to  hunt,  so 
we  decided  to  try  to  get  home.  Nelson  Buckley  said  his  old 
Simplex  car  could  go  across  country,  so  we  started  out  for 
Kennett  Square  in  it  and  caught  a  train  to  Philadelphia  at 
noon;  but  the  poor  horses  and  hounds  did  n't  fare  so  well, 
as  it  took  them  seven  hours  to  do  the  twenty-five  miles 
back  to  kennels  through  the  snow. 

Speaking  of  Nelson  Buckley  reminds  me  of  the  story 
they  tell  of  his  first  appearance  with  the  Radnor  hounds, 
a  good  many  years  ago,  in  Mr.  Mather's  regime. 

"Buck"  appeared  on  the  scene  one  fine  morning,  re- 
splendent in  new  scarlet  and  spotless  leathers,  and  went 
up  to  Mr.  Mather,  who  was  standing  on  the  Club  House 
steps,  and  presented  him  with  a  supposed  letter  of  intro- 
duction, saying, "  I  am  Mr.  Buckley,  of  Erdenheim."  Mr. 
Mather,  in  his  usual,  most  hospitable  manner,  just  glanced 
at  the  note  and  told  "Mr.  Buckley,  of  Erdenheim,"  how 
delighted  he  was  to  welcome  him  to  Radnor,  etc. 

Hounds  moved  ofF;  the  business  of  the  day  absorbed  the 
M.F.H.,  and  it  was  not  until  he  was  at  home  that  evening 
that  he  re-read  the  note  "Buck"  had  given  him,  which 
ran  something  like  this: 

MY  DEAR  MR.  MATHER: 

This  will  introduce  to  you  my  very  dear  friend,  Mr. 
Buckley,  of  Erdenheim,  an  ardent  foxhunter  and  sports- 
man of  the  highest  type;  and  I  trust  you  will  extend  to  him 
the  hospitalities  (both  liquid  and  otherwise)  of  the  Rad- 
nor Hunt. 

(Signed)  R.  NELSON  BUCKLEY 


Photograph  by  Harry  S.  Hood 

MRS.  HOWARD  H.  HENRY  AND  MRS.  A.  J.  A.  DEVEREUX 
At  the  Bryn  Mawr  Horse  Show,  1920 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  59 

Needless  to  say,  the  story  was  too  good  to  be  kept 
secret,  and  "Buck"  was  the  recipient  of  a  good  deal  of 
ragging,  until  one  day,  some  weeks  later,  at  about  that 
hour  when  the  sun  passes  over  the  yardarm,  and  Mr. 
Buckley,  of  Erdenheim,  was  modestly  boasting  of  some 
of  his  exploits,  conquests,  or  whatever  may  be  the  most 
polite  term,  it  was  unanimously  decided  to  perform  a 
slight  operation  on  him.  On  being  laid  out  on  the  impro- 
vised operating-table,  it  was  discovered  that  he  had  an 
unusually  large  roll  of  money  in  his  breeches'  pocket. 
Therefore,  the  self-appointed  surgeons  appropriated  the 
money  as  their  just  fees. 

Upon  the  recovery  of  the  patient,  some  one  suggested 
it  was  a  charity  case,  so  the  money  was  returned  at  once. 

No  one  had  counted  the  money;  no  one  knew  how  much 
they  had  taken;  but  each  gave  back  a  handful  of  bills. 
But  the  patient  that  night,  on  reaching  home,  proceeded 
to  count  his  wealth,  and  found,  much  to  his  surprise,  that 
he  was  forty-seven  dollars  richer  than  before. 

Saturday,  8th  January,  1916 

MR.  JORROCKS  once  said,  "There's  nothing  so  queer  as 
scent,  'cept  a  woman."  Ask  any  Master  of  hounds.  He 
may  not  agree  with  you  about  the  ladies;  but  it's  a  hun- 
dred to  one  shot  that  he  will  about  scent. 

For  the  past  fortnight  there  has  been  no  scent  at  all; 
foxes  have  been  going  away  right  in  front  of  hounds,  and 
they  have  n't  been  able  to  do  a  thing.  But  everything 
changed  to-day,  and  conditions  were  certainly  not  favor- 
able either,  as  the  thermometer  stood  at  13°  when  my 
horse  left  home  at  eight-thirty  for  the  meet  at  Goshen 
School. 

However,  our  first  fox  was  pushed  out  of  the  Hershey 


60  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Mill  covert,  Harry  Harrison  and  I  viewing  him  crossing 
the  King  Road;  and  being  afraid  of  being  caught  by  the 
Master  in  a  place  we  should  not  have  been,  we  rode  into 
the  wood  to  hide  until  the  field  came  along,  when  we 
trailed  in  behind  as  innocent  as  lambs. 

Even  though  this  fox  did  n't  give  hounds  much  to  do, 
as  they  lost  him  back  of  the  Brown  Field,  our  consciences 
were  clear,  as  they  had  taken  him  about  five  minutes  be- 
yond where  we  had  met  him  face  to  face. 

Working  down-country,  a  good  fox  went  out  of 
Malvern  Barrens.  Hounds  checked  a  moment  in  the 
swamp,  then  went  at  a  good  clip  through  the  Boyer  Davis 
Farm  to  Evans's  meadow,  where  Antelo  Devereux  had 
quite  a  fall,  and  on  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  but,  keeping  it  on 
their  left,  came  back  over  Mr.  Cuyler's  hill  to  his  back 
lane,  where  a  screaming  big  new  four-rail  fence  at  the  foot 
of  a  steep  hill  made  every  one  sit  up  and  take  notice.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  ice  and  it  did  n't  look  good  to 
any  one,  until  Will  Leverton  said,  "Well,  I  must  get  to 
my  hounds."  He  sailed  at  it;  the  take-off  was  bad  and  his 
horse  slipped,  and,  fortunately,  for  the  rest  of  us,  broke  it 
down.  Hounds  swung  left-handed  just  over  the  brook, 
came  back  across  the  form  and  out  to  the  White  Horse 
Road,  over  the  Red  Bridge  to  Van  Meeter's,  through 
"  Pick  "  Harrison's,  and,  keeping  the  Leopard  hard  to  their 
left,  crossed  above  Leiber's,  on  into  the  Rowland  Comly 
Farm,  where  a  fresh  fox  went  out  of  covert  with  four 
couples  on  its  line;  but  the  hunted  fox  turned  back,  hounds 
taking  us  to  Lockwood's  Hollow,  and  on  up-country  to  the 
White  Horse  Farm  swimming-pool,  where  scent  failed 
completely,  hounds  having  given  us  an  hour  and  twenty 
minutes  of  very  satisfactory  work. 

Those  in  the  best  of  it  were,  besides  the  Master;  Mr. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  61 

Beale;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Harry  W.  Harrison; 
Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  the  Misses  Dolan;  Fred  and  Mrs. 
Sturges;  Miss  Hopper;  Mr.  Bodine;  "Billy"  Kerr;  Harold 
Wilcox;  Ben  Holland;  Clyde  John;  and  "Pick"  Harrison. 

Saturday,  5th  February,  1916 

"ALL  the  world  loves  a  lover,"  and  the  M.F.H.  sat  on  his 
horse  "Oviat"  and  thought  a  moment,  at  the  meet  at 
White  Horse,  after  "Bill"  Evans  told  him  of  all  he  had 
seen  this  morning. 

It  seems  there  was  a  vixen  with  three  gentlemen  friends 
in  Evans's  meadow,  also  the  three  gentlemen  seemed  a  bit 
quarrelsome  (no,  not  with  the  lady,  but  just  among 
themselves). 

It  was  finally  decided  that  the  fair  vixen  might  possibly 
spare  us  one  of  her  gentlemen  for  the  day,  so  the  two  packs 
(Kirk's  hounds  were  meeting  with  Radnor),  twenty- 
seven  and  a  half  couples  in  all,  started  in  that  direction, 
and  sure  enough  there  stood  a  fine  big  dog  fox  on  the  top 
of  the  hill.  When  he  saw  hounds,  he  swished  his  brush  up 
and  galloped  off  right-handed,  but  he  must  have  taken 
extra  pains  with  his  toilet  this  morning,  in  anticipation  of 
seeing  his  lady  love,  for  he  left  no  scent;  hounds  could  do 
nothing  with  him  at  all. 

Then  a  second  fox  was  viewed  away,  and  hounds 
settled  on  his  line  immediately,  carrying  it  up-country  to 
the  Malvern  Barrens;  but  Mr.  Fox  still  kept  his  girl  in 
mind,  for  he  turned  in  the  Barrens  and  came  back  to 
Fairy  Hill,  ran  through  the  covert  and  took  us  fairly  flying 
back  to  Evans's  meadow,  made  a  bit  of  a  circle  there  to 
look  the  situation  over,  and  pointing  his  mask  towards 
Cathcart's  Rocks,  but  keeping  it  on  his  left,  ran  back  to 
White  Horse,  on  to  the  Meeting  House,  right-handed 


62  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

over  the  hill  and  back  to  the  Barrens,  where  he  again 
turned  and  was  viewed,  being  coursed  and  nearly  caught 
by  one  hound,  the  main  body  of  the  pack  being  a  couple 
of  fields  behind. 

He  took  hounds  once  more  to  Evans's  meadow  (what  a 
persistent  lover  he  was!),  then  evidently  decided  to  go  to 
his  home  earth  and  wait  for  things  to  quiet  down,  for  he 
swung  up-country  to  Miss  Hook's,  crossed  into  the  swamp, 
and,  turning  left-handed  into  Delchester,  we  viewed  him 
again,  and  this  time  thought  he  had  met  an  untimely  end, 
for  he  came  up  over  the  brow  of  a  hill  face  to  face  with  two 
of  Dr.  Ashton's  terriers.  The  terriers  rolled  him  over,  but 
he  was  up  and  at  them  and  whipped  them  both,  dis- 
appearing along  the  hillside.  Hounds  had  checked  a 
moment  in  the  wood,  but,  on  coming  out,  marked  this  gal- 
lant lover  to  earth  in  the  next  field.  As  he  had  given  us  a  fair 
two  hours  and  forty  minutes,  the  Masters  called  it  a  day. 

Out  of  a  field  of  fifty,  there  were  left  at  the  end  only: 
the  two  Masters;  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt;  Fred  Sturges  on 
"Pocono";  Mrs.  Sturges  on  "Frosty";  Dave  Sharp  on  a 
colt  by  "Master  of  Croft";  Mrs.  Sharp  on  "Ovation"; 
Harry  and  Miss  Barclay;  Mr.  Beale;  Ben  Holland  on 
"Jim  Bludso";  Lawrence  Bodine;  Clyde  John;  Lem 
Altemus;  Harold  Wilcox;  Buck  on  the  "Iron  Woman"; 
Miss  Margaret  Hopper;  Mr.  Kerr  on  a  big  rangy  thorough- 
bred bay;  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins;  and  Miss  Ellen  Mary 
Cassatt,  going  brilliantly  on  her  brother's  "Greymaster." 

Saturday,  12th  February,  1916 
' '  Lincoln 's  Birthday ' ' 

IT  was  a  pretty  raw  sort  of  morning  when  Alec  Brown  and 
I  left  home  to  motor  to  Marshallton  to  the  joint  meet  of 
the  Brandywine  and  Pickering. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  63 

The  roads  were  rough  and  we  bumped  along,  cussing 
and  discussing  various  things,  but  cheered  up  consider- 
ably on  reaching  the  old  inn  at  Marshallton,  for  it  was  a 
lovely  scene.  Horses  galore,  and  all  the  foxhunting  frater- 
nity for  miles  around  saying  "how-de-do,"  and  sizing  up 
the  two  packs  of  hounds;  Thompson,  of  the  Brandywine, 
putting  down  nineteen  couples,  and  Roberts,  of  the  Pick- 
ering, fifteen  couples. 

I  don't  know  that  country  well  enough  to  describe  a  run 
in  it;  but  a  fox  was  viewed  away  from  Mine  Hill  at  eleven- 
ten,  hounds  making  a  couple  of  big  circles  through  the 
McFadden  Farms,  crossing  the  Brandywine  River  at 
Straw's  Bridge,  and  being  continually  right  in  front  of 
hounds,  who  were  kept  to  their  noses  all  the  time,  gave  us  a 
good  hunting  run  of  two  hours,  finally  bringing  us  back  to 
Marshallton,  just  as  it  commenced  to  rain  and  sleet  and 
blow  a  gale. 

Further  hunting  was  out  of  the  question,  and  Mr. 
Mather's  hospitable  house,  a  six-mile  ride  against  the 
rain  and  sleet,  with  one's  fingers  nearly  frozen  in  sopping 
string  gloves;  your  knees  decidedly  on  the  damp  side, 
and  your  flask  empty,  and  so  was  the  other  fellow's,  and 
not  a  hotel  on  the  way.  But  Mr.  Mather  corrected  all 
these  minor  details  once  Brandywine  Meadows  Farm  was 
reached,  and  even  if  your  boots  did  come  off  with  a 
squelching  kind  of  gurgle,  like  a  cork  being  pulled  out  of  a 
bottle,  you  really  liked  it  and  would  n't  have  had  it  differ- 
ent for  anything.  Stewed  chicken  breasts  with  rice,  and 
anything  one  may  fancy  that  comes  out  of  a  bottle,  com- 
bined with  a  big  fire  and  congenial  friends  —  well,  it's 
hard  to  beat,  that's  all. 

John  Valentine,  Nelson  Buckley,  and  a  farmer's  bov 
were  the  only  casualties  of  the  day,  and  "Buck"  was  the 


64  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

only  one  that  really  needed  first  aid.  Miss  Mather  picked 
a  few  pebbles  out  of  the  back  of  his  head  and  bandaged 
him  up,  and,  after  a  hot  drink,  he  was  quite  up  to  his 
usual  form.  Among  the  others  were:  the  Master  of  Pick- 
ering and  Mrs.  Clothier;  Miss  Mather;  Victor  and  Mrs. 
Mather;  Mrs.  Valentine  on  "Lone  Ben";  Gilbert  Mather; 
Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  on  "Tango";  Plunket  Stewart; 
Harry  Harrison;  Antelo  Devereux;  Eddie  Dale;  the  Misses 
Hopkins;  Alec  Yarnall;  Howard  and  Mrs.  Henry;  Mrs. 
Frank  Bonsai,  of  Harford;  Lehrman  Stewart;  and  Dr. 
Bayard  Keane. 

Saturday,  iSth  March,  1916 

WITH  the  mercury  at  5°,  one  would  hardly  expect  even  a 
fair  day,  and  not  in  one's  wildest  fancy  —  and  fancies  go 
pretty  wild  at  times,  mine  do,  anyway  —  would  one  ex- 
pect a  real  top-hole  run.  But  we  had  it,  and  a  good  six- 
mile  point  to  boot,  with  the  ground  as  hard  as  nails;  but 
you  don't  seem  to  mind  that  when  once  your  blood  is  up, 
providing  you  have  the  sort  of  one  between  your  knees 
that  gives  you  the  right  feeling. 

There  were  only  nine  of  us  brave  enough,  or  foolish 
enough,  whichever  way  you  like  it,  to  go  to  the  meet  at 
Sugartown:  Ben  Chew  on  "Oviat";  Gardner  Cassatt  on 
"Greymaster";  Miss  Cassatt  on  "Tango";  Lawrence 
Bodine;  Miss  Betty  Sinnickson  on  "Uncle  Joe";  Miss 
Ruth  Wood;  Emlen  Wood  on  a  chestnut  stallion;  Ben 
Holland  on  Horace  Hare's  "Jim  Bludso";  and  Arthur 
Dickson  on  a  dun,  who  had  quite  a  serious  fall  just  at  the 
end  of  the  first  run. 

The  Malvern  Barrens  again  produced  a  good  stout- 
running  fox  that  went  away  from  the  lower  end  of  covert, 
hounds  setting  a  good  pace  to  the  Disston  Swamp,  where 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  65 

they  checked  a  moment,  then  on  to  Mr.  Coxe's,  and 
through  to  Waynesboro,  and  running  hard  by  the  leopard 
to  the  Wendel  property,  where  we  viewed  our  fox  pointing 
back  toward  Cathcart's  Rocks;  but,  keeping  the  Rocks  on 
their  left,  hounds  ran  a  beautiful  line  through  the  Seventy- 
Six  Farm  to  Lockwood's  Hollow  and  on  to  Rowland 
Comly's,  where  we  viewed  again  before  crossing  into  the 
Happy  Creek  Meadows,  when  hounds  took  us  to  Mr. 
John  Brown's  and  gave  it  up  just  below  the  Old  Mill. 

No  one  had  suffered  from  the  cold  so  far,  so  the  Master 
decided  to  try  for  one  "supposed"  to  be  at  the  Stokes 
Farm.  He  was  there,  and  went  out  through  the  wood  to 
the  West  Chester  Pike.  Having  cast  a  front  shoe,  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  if  hounds  ran  down-country  I'd  take  a 
chance  of  staying  somewhere  near  them,  but  on  reaching 
the  Pike,  they  turned  up-country,  so  I  pulled  out  and 
rode  down  the  Pike  with  Harold  Wilcox  to  the  Square, 
where  some  excellent  port  kept  us  warm  until  we  reached 
the  kennels.  Hounds,  I  hear,  ran  on  from  Castle  Rock  to 
Green  Briar  and  to  earth  in  the  Malvern  Barrens. 

Thursday,  2yd  March,  1916 

AFTER  meeting  at  the  kennels  at  one  o'clock,  and  drawing 
the  country  blank  as  far  as  Mr.  Charlton  Yarnall's,  hounds 
finally  found  a  fox  at  home.  He  was  a  circling  beggar,  but 
gave  us  an  hour  and  forty-three  minutes  of  fairly  fast  work, 
with  the  going  in  that  condition  when  horses  are  on  top  of 
the  ground  in  one  stride  and  in  up  to  their  bellies  the  next. 
However,  no  one  went  down,  but  we  were  all  pretty  near 
it  a  number  of  times. 

It  was  half-past  four  when  hounds  first  spoke  to  the  line 
in  the  Yarnall  Meadow,  and  coming  down  the  creek  crossed 
through  Dr.  White's  to  Innes's  Wood,  to  Calvert's  and 


66  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

over  the  Leopard  Road  to  Mrs.  McGovern's,  when  they 
crossed  the  Harrison  Meadows  and,  circling  the  farm 
buildings,  ran  through  the  wood  along  the  Creek  Road,  up 
the  Happy  Creek  drive  and,  sinking  the  vale  with  a  beau- 
tiful scent  and  cry,  ran  to  Lockwood's  Hollow,  on  to  the 
Red  Iron  Bridge,  then,  turning  sharply,  came  back  down- 
country  over  pretty  much  the  same  line  to  Mr.  John 
Brown's,  marking  their  fox  to  ground  at  the  celebrated 
drain  in  that  lovely  stretch  of  turf. 

Only  six  of  us  stayed  out  long  enough  to  get  the  run  — 
the  Master  on  "Styx";  Plunket  Stewart  on  Horace  Hare's 
"Plainsman";  Buck;  and  Gerry  and  Mrs.  Leiper. 

Saturday,  26th  March,  1916 

THE  season  is  over,  finished  to-day  in  quite  good  style;  and 
now  for  other  pleasures  afield,  but  with  one's  thoughts  con- 
tinually harking  back  to  the  good  horses  that  have  carried 
one,  and  who,  in  my  humble  opinion,  have  enjoyed  the 
sport  equally  as  much  as  have  the  somewhat  bumpy  bur- 
dens they  have  so  patiently  carried  on  their  back.  As  for 
the  hounds,  we  know  they  enjoy  it,  or  they  would  n't  run 
as  well  as  they  do;  and,  besides,  don't  they  actually  tell 
one  so,  every  time  they  get  a  whiff  of  a  good  fox's  line  ? 

And  even  if  most  of  the  hounds  have  nothing  to  do  all 
summer  but  lie  around  in  the  shade  and  maybe  be  taken 
for  a  swim  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  there  are 
some  of  the  ladies  of  the  pack  that  have  quite  strenuous 
domestic  duties  to  perform.  But  it's  all  in  a  lifetime,  and 
I  'm  sure  they  all  enjoy  it. 

But  I  Ve  overrun  the  line  a  bit,  and,  to  get  to  the  bus- 
iness of  the  moment,  hounds  met  this  morning  at  ten 
o'clock  at  White  Horse,  found  in  Pratt's  Wood,  ran  with  a 
burning  scent  across  to  the  far  side  of  Belches ter,  circled 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  67 

back  to  Fronfield's  Corner,  where  our  fox  was  viewed. 
Hounds  running  parallel  to  the  road  swung  left-handed 
back  to  and  across  the  Delchester  Dam,  up  the  far  hill- 
side to  a  welcome  check  at  the  top,  where  we  had  a  mo- 
ment to  breathe,  as  the  soft  going  had  taken  a  good  deal  of 
the  steam  out  of  the  horses. 

Will  Leverton  cast  hounds  left-handed,  when  they  went 
away  at  once,  crossing  the  peach  orchard  and,  keeping 
White  Horse  on  their  right,  checked  a  moment  at  the 
Meeting  House,  crossed  the  road  into  Emlen  Wood's 
meadow  and  raced  on  up-country  to  Evans's  Wood,  then 
bearing  left-handed,  again  crossed  into  the  meadow  back  of 
the  Klemm  Farm,  on  up  the  old  railroad  embankment  and 
into  the  Malvern  Barrens,  where  hounds  pushed  their  fox 
through  the  covert  and  out  the  lower  end,  going  at  great 
pace  back  through  the  Bryn  Clovis  Dairy  to  Pratt's  and  on 
to  Delchester,  where  Charles,  undoubtedly,  went  to  earth, 
but  hounds  did  not  mark  him  under. 

There  was  a  fairly  good  field  out  for  this,  the  last  day  of 
the  season,  including,  besides  the  Master:  John  R.  Valen- 
tine, M.F.H.  Harford  County,  on  "Apperley,"  and  Mrs. 
Valentine  on  "Lone  Ben";  Dick  and  Walter  Stokes;  Harry 
Barclay;  Lawrence  Bodine;  Gerry  and  Mrs.  Leiper;  Ben 
Holland  on  a  grey;  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt;  Henry  and 
Mrs.  Collins;  Sam  Kirk;  Gardner  Cassatt  on  "Greymas- 
ter";  Lem  Altemus;  Miss  Sinnickson  on  "Uncle  Joe";  Mr. 
Wilbur  on  "Champagne";  Fred  Sturges  on  "Cheavaux," 
and  Mrs.  Sturges  on  the  faithful  "Frosty";  Mrs.  Dave 
Sharp,  going  brilliantly  on  a  "Master  of  Craft"  four-year- 
old;  Miss  Ruth  Wood  on  a  big  brown  horse;  Miss  Hopper; 
and  our  old  friend  Buck  on  "Ruskin,"  and  three  girls  from 
Bryn  Mawr  College  on  three  screws  they  jobbed  from  some 
livery  stable. 


68  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Saturday,  22nd  April,  1916 

MRS.  HARRY  W.  HARRISON  very  kindly  gave  the  cup 
that  was  run  for  to-day  at  Happy  Creek  Farms,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Radnor  Hunt. 

It  had  been  many  years  since  Radnor  had  a  spring  meet- 
ing, and,  although  the  race  was  well  filled,  twelve  starters 
to  be  exact,  there  was  only  a  small  gallery  on  hand  to  see 
them  off.  It  was  a  very  pretty  race  all  through,  and  with 
plenty  of  excitement  to  suit  those  of  morbid  tastes. 

Antelo  Devereux's  "Earl  Senff,"  with  the  owner  up,  fell 
at  the  fourth  jump;  then  Victor  Mather's  saddle  turned, 
putting  his  "Pocopson"  out  of  the  running.  Bill  Clothier's 
"Impulsive,"  with  Gerry  Leiper  riding,  went  down  at  the 
big  fence  in  the  meadow;  and  Welsh  Strawbridge,  who 
looked  like  a  winner,  took  "River  Breeze"  outside  the 
flags^  and  fell  at  the  second  jump  from  home,  leaving 
Nelson  Buckley's  good  horse,  "Ruskin,"  ridden  by  John 
Bosley,  Jr.,  of  Baltimore,  without  a  real  competitor.  "  Bint" 
TolandVSam  Ball,"  with  Eddie  Cheston  up,  ran  second; 
the  other  "also  rans"  being  E.  B.  Morris,  Jr.'s  "Flurry 
Knox";  Robert  Glendinning's  "  Mill  Work,"  "Truthful," 
owned  and  ridden  by  Julian  Biddle;  "Wild  Irishman," 
Colonel  Livingston;  and  W.  H.  Mulford's  "Grasshopper." 


SEASON  OF  1916-1917 


SEASON  OF  1916-1917 

CUBBING 

FORTUNATE,  indeed,  is  the  Master  of  Hounds  who  has  a 
good  scenting  cubbing  season,  plenty  of  cubs  to  rattle 
about,  and  a  keen  young  entry  of  hounds. 

Benjamin  Chew,  M.F.H.,  had  all  of  these  in  the  Autumn 
of  1916,  and  the  prospects  for  a  good  season's  sport  were 
never  brighter. 

Scent  kept  top-hole  until  towards  the  middle  of  No- 
vember when  a  dry  spell  put  hounds  to  their  noses  for  a 
few  weeks. 

My  first  morning  with  hounds  this  season  was  August 
I pth,  in  that  lovely  Cheshire  country  with  W.  Plunket 
Stewart,  M.F.H.  As  we  finished  our  coffee  at  five  o'clock, 
the  Cheshire  English  bitches  and  five  and  one  half  couples 
of  half-bred  young  entry  appeared  coming  up  that  stately 
avenue  of  old  pines.  We  jogged  around  the  road  to  Webb's 
Wood,  and  hounds  were  no  sooner  in  cover  than  we  saw  a 
beautiful  cub  leaping  over  the  tall  grass  and  pointing  to- 
wards Chesterland.  Then  there  was  a  burst  of  music  that 
told  us  everything  was  all  right,  and  we  sat  on  a  little 
knoll  and  watched  hounds  and  cub  make  several  big  cir- 
cles around  us,  finally  marking  him  to  ground  in  his  home 
covert,  in  fifty-five  minutes.  Even  the  most  fastidious 
could  not  have  asked  for  a  more  satisfactory  opening  of  a 
cubbing  season;  and  as  we  rode  back  to  kennels,  the  Master 
on  "  Moonshine,"  Nelson  Duckley  on  "  Mirana,"  "  Buzzy  " 
Smith  on  "  Sir  Astro,"  Mr.  Kerr  on  a  big  chestnut  thorough- 
bred, and  your  humble  servant  on  John  Fell's  "  Sandy 


72  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Run,"  we  were  a  very  contented,  self-satisfied,  and  smil- 
ing lot. 

On  August  2ist,  Ben  Chew,  M.F.H.,  opened  the  Rad- 
nor cubbing  season  with  the  bitch  pack  and  all  the  young 
entry.  It  was  a  warm,  sultry  sort  of  morning  as  I  left  my 
stable  at  four-thirty,  and  quite  too  dark  to  find  my  hole  in 
the  hedge  to  make  a  short  cut  out  to  the  road,  so,  leaving 
the  navigation  to  my  good  horse  "Poacher"  until  a  few 
faint  rays  of  the  morning  sun  enabled  me  to  see,  we  finally 
arrived  at  the  kennels  just  as  Will  Leverton  sounded  a  note 
on  his  horn  and  hounds  came  streaming  out  the  wide  doors 
to  him.  There  were  only  five  of  us,  including  the  Master  on 
"Oviat,"  David  S.  B.  Chew  on  "Killrush,"  and  Harry 
Brown,  first  whipper-in,  on  "Marie." 

The  Norris  cornfield  produced  a  cub  at  once,  hounds 
opening  to  the  line  with  a  roar  that  must  have  made  the 
blood  in  a  late-sleeping  neighbor's  veins  tingle,  if  such  a 
thing  is  possible. 

Our  cub  broke  from  the  cornfield,  came  around  back  of 
the  farm  buildings  and  jumped  down  the  ha-ha  into  the 
road  and  up  the  other  bank,  giving  us  a  splendid  view. 
Hounds  were  right  on  his  brush,  and,  pushing  him  over  the 
hill,  through  the  wood,  and  back  to  the  cornfield  again, 
they  swung  right-handed  across  the  Hospital  Farm,  finally 
marking  him  under  in  the  railroad  embankment  near  the 
bridge. 

A  THICK  blanket  of  fog  settled  down  just  as  hounds  found 
at  the  Chimney  Corner  at  five-fifteen  on  the  morning 
of  August  26th.  They  ran  for  forty  minutes  around  the 
Brookthorpe  Farm,  marking  their  fox  to  earth  on  the 
Marple  Road;  but  as  Nelson  Buckley  said  as  we  were  hack- 
ing back  to  Boggestowe  House  for  breakfast,  "We  had  a 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  73 

fine  run,  a  lot  of  music,  and  accounted  for  our  fox,  but 
I  never  saw  hounds  at  all." 

SEPTEMBER  4th,  scent  was  poor  with  the  Cheshire  hounds, 
but  they  put  one  to  earth  at  Brooklawn  and  killed  another 
after  a  short  burst  of  about  ten  minutes,  giving  us  a  bit 
of  a  gallop  and  an  appetite  for  breakfast.  There  were  only 
five  of  us  out  —  the  Master,  Bob  Strawbridge,  Paul  D. 
Mills,  and  Mr.  Kerr. 

ON  Thursday,  yth  September,  the  Radnor  found  a  cub  in 
Mr.  Ellis's  cornfield,  hounds  marking  him  in  a  drain  on 
Bryn  Mawr  Avenue.  After  being  bolted  by  the  terriers, 
"Rags"  and  "Sting,"  hounds  rolled  him  over  on  the  bank 
of  the  Ithan  Creek.  My  youngest  son,  Lawrence,  age  four, 
who  was  out  on  a  pony  on  a  lead,  fell  off  just  as  he  reached 
the  kill,  but  was  nevertheless  successfully  blooded  by  Will 

Leverton ! 

Saturday,  2ist  October,  1916 

IT  is  true  to  say  of  foxhunting,  as  of  most  sports,  that  "It 
is  the  pace  that  kills."  I  think  it  is  a  remark  more  true  of 
foxhunting  than  any  other  sport.  Certainly  it  is  the  pace 
which  kills  foxes. 

We  have  all  seen  foxes  killed  —  yes,  lots  of  'em  —  but 
I  venture  to  say  that  any  one  of  us,  in  any  one  season,  can 
count  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand  the  foxes  he  has  seen 
rolled  over.  By  this  I  mean  full-grown,  native  foxes,  not 
cubs  or  bagged  fellows.  But  here  I  am  again,  preaching  a 
sermon,  instead  of  getting  down  to  the  business  of  the  day. 

Hounds  met  this  morning  at  White  Horse  at  six-thirty, 
with  a  field  of  twenty-six  out  (a  pretty  good  number  for  so 
early  in  the  morning,  so  far  up-country);  the  Master  put- 
ting down  a  mixed  pack  of  eighteen  couples,  ten  and  one 


74  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

half  couples  of  dogs  and  seven  and  one  half  of  bitches. 
Hounds  picked  up  a  cold  line  in  the  Boyer  Davis  meadow, 
working  it  very,  very  slowly  into  Harry  Disston's  swamp, 
where  Will  Leverton,  huntsman,  went  into  the  swamp  on 
foot,  and,  while  he  was  off  his  horse,  some  one  viewed  our 
fox  out  the  north  end.  Hounds,  owning  it  at  once  and 
carrying  it  with  beautiful  voice  into  the  lower  end  of  the 
Barrens,  checked  a  moment,  when  three  foxes  went  out 
of  covert  in  different  directions,  but  a  backward  cast  set 
them  on  the  hunted  fox,  and,  coming  back  to  Disston's, 
went  through  the  covert,  keeping  Mr.  Alex.  Coxe's  on 
their  right,  fairly  flew  out  to  the  State  Road;  crossing  at 
the  schoolhouse,  they  ran  to  the  wood  surrounding  the 
Coxe  house,  where  a  farmhand  viewed  our  fox  going  down 
the  drive.  Hounds  checked  a  moment,  but  Will  Leverton 
put  them  right  immediately,  and,  crossing  a  bit  of  nice 
grass,  took  us  over  the  State  Road  again  and  incidentally 
over  four  or  five  nice  worm  fences,  one  right  after  the  other, 
until  we  came  to  the  Barrens  again.  But  Reynard  was  too 
hard-pressed  to  tarry  there,  so,  racing  out  the  upper  end, 
hounds  bore  right-handed  through  the  Rush  Hospital  on 
across  the  road,  and,  running  with  a  breast-high  scent,  it 
looked  as  if  we  were  going  to  Hershey's  Mill;  but  hounds 
pulled  their  fox  down  in  the  wood  on  top  of  the  hill,  just 
after  crossing  the  Pike,  in  an  hour  and  thirty-five  minutes 
of  very  brilliant  work.  Ben  Chew  was  congratulated  by 
every  one,  and  he  certainly  deserved  it. 

Among  those  out,  besides  the  Master,  were:  Bob  and 
Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Mrs.  Snowden,  going  in  great  style  on 
"Able";  Miss  Cassatt  and  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt;  Paul  and 
Mrs.  Mills;  Charlie  Munn;  Monroe  Robinson,  who  said 
it  was  the  best  run  he  had  ever  seen;  Lowber  and  Walter 
Stokes;  Frank  Lloyd  on  "Sherry";  Dave  Sharp  on  a 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  75 

"Boarder";  Harry  Barclay;  Ben  Holland  on  "Jim";  Miss 
Barclay  on  "Sandy";  Mrs.  Antelo  Devereux,  who  was 
given  the  brush;  Horace  Hare  on  "Plainsman";  and 
Arthur  and  Mrs.  Dickson. 

Most  of  us  met  again  in  the  afternoon  at  the  Rose  Tree 
Races,  which  were  quite  above  par. 

30/A  September,  1916 

HORSE  AND  HOUND  SHOW  WEEK  at  Bryn  Mawr,  always 
more  or  less  strenuous,  was  quite  up  to  its  usual  form  this 
year;  and  with  parties  every  night  and  cub  hunting  and 
beagle  trials  at  daybreak,  the  hours  of  sleep  the  hunting 
fraternity  had  during  the  week  could  nearly  be  counted  on 
one's  fingers. 

Mr.  Ellis's  breakfast  after  the  beagle  trials  at  his  Fox 
Hill  Farm  was  a  great  success;  but  the  real  event  of  the 
week  was  the  dinner  dance  given  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Valentine 
at  their  Cafe  au  Concourse  Hippique,  at  Highland  Farm. 

In  addition  to  the  beautiful  dancing  girls,  to  entertain 
the  guests,  was  a  wrestling  bear.  After  the  bear  had  done 
its  turn  with  its  keeper,  and  had  been  put  safely  away  in  the 
cellar,  it  was  unanimously  decided  that  John  Rush  Street, 
of  Harford  County,  should  wrestle  with  it,  so  amid  much 
hilarity  the  bear  was  brought  up  from  the  cellar  again. 
The  bear  stood  upon  his  hind  legs  sparring  with  Rush 
a  few  moments,  and  then  they  clinched.  Everything  was 
apparently  going  according  to  the  Marquis  of  Queensberry 
rules  until  Rush  hit  the  bear  below  the  belt.  This  foul 
evidently  escaped  the  notice  of  Foxhall  Keene,  the  referee, 
but  not  Mr.  Bear,  for  he  immediately  tightened  his  hold  on 
Rush,  who  suddenly  became  very  pale,  but  was  at  once 
rescued  from  the  bear's  loving  embrace  by  its  keeper.  Need- 
less to  say,  after  that,  no  one  else  volunteered. 


76  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Tuesday,  2^th  October,  1916 

ALEXANDER  BROWN,  one  of  the  very  best  of  our  all-too- 
few  all-round  sportsmen,  was  unfortunately  drowned  to- 
day in  the  Delaware  River  off  Essington,  when  the  hydro- 
plane in  which  he  was  flying,  while  endeavoring  to  qualify 
for  a  pilot's  license,  fell  into  the  water. 

It  was  hard  to  say  whether  he  was  more  distinguished  for 
his  hunting,  racing,  or  his  polo. 

In  hunting  he  was  always  with  hounds  and  had  been  a 
liberal  and  loyal  supporter  of  Radnor  for  many  years.  In 
racing,  his  horse  "  Pebbles  "  was  probably  his  best,  winning, 
among  other  things,  the  much-coveted  Maryland  Hunt 
Cup.  He  was  a  five-goal  man  at  polo  and  one  of  the  main 
standbys  of  the  old  Bryn  Mawr  team,  and  one  that  could 
always  be  relied  upon  to  do  his  bit  and  do  it  to  the  best  of 
his  ability. 

Saturday,  litk  November,  1916 

AFTER  having  been  out  with  hounds  for  a  couple  of  hours 
this  morning,  but  before  they  had  any  kind  of  a  run,  Mr. 
Louis  S.  Fiske  was  fatally  stricken  in  his  motor  on  his  way 
back  to  the  kennels  from  Sugartown,  and  died  before  any 
medical  aid  could  be  obtained. 

One  of  Radnor's  hardest  riding  and  most  popular  men, 
he  seemed  in  splendid  health  at  the  meet,  and  in  fact  not 
ten  minutes  before  his  chauffeur  found  him  unconscious,  he 
had  waved  his  hunting-crop  out  the  door  of  his  car  at  my 
two  little  sons  who  were  motoring  up-country  with  me. 

Monday,  20th  November,  1916 

AFTER  having  hunted  the  Harford  country  a  fortnight,  A. 
Henry  Higginson,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,  Middlesex,  was  invited  to 
hunt  the  Radnor  country  three  days  this  week.  His  sixteen 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  77 

and  one  half  couples  of  English  hounds,  including  two  cou- 
ples of  Welsh  hounds  imported  last  year,  were  kennelled  at 
Radnor,  his  horses  at  the  Phillips  stable  near  by,  while  my 
good  wife  and  I  had  the  honor  of  putting  him  up. 

The  country  had  been  very  dry  for  the  past  two  weeks 
and  scenting  conditions  practically  nil;  but  such  is  luck, 
and,  sorry  as  we  all  were,  we  could  n't  help  it. 

There  was  a  representative  field  of  seventy-five  at  White 
Horse  this  morning  for  the  first  Middlesex  meet,  Higginson 
hunting  hounds  himself,  and  turning  his  outfit  out  on 
greys,  made  a  very  smart  appearance.  He  was  riding  "Lon- 
don Smoke"  and  had  Will  Leverton  as  pilot;  but  luck  was 
against  him,  for  he  found  Pratt's  Wood,  Delchester,  Dut- 
ton's  Mill,  Miss  Hook's,  Fairy  Hill,  and  Bryn  Clovis  all 
blank.  Then  a  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  meadow  back 
of  the  Klemm  Farm.  Higginson  lifted  his  hounds  to  the 
view,  they  owned  it  at  once,  and  running  with  good  voice, 
carried  it  up  the  meadows  to  an  old  hollow  and  dead  chest- 
nut tree,  where  they  marked  their  fox  under.  It  was  de- 
cided to  smoke  him  out,  and,  after  much  waiting  and  specu- 
lation, Mrs.  Paul  Mills  gave  a  splendid  view  holloa,  and 
out  ran  a  field  mouse.  No  fox  appeared,  so  hounds  were 
taken  over  to  the  Barrens,  while  some  of  us  stayed  behind 
to  watch  the  tree,  and  very  soon  Miss  Gertrude  deCoppet 
saw  our  fox  peeping  out.  He  made  a  break  finally,  pointing 
south.  "Pick"  Harrison  went  after  hounds,  and,  Higgin- 
son galloping  them  back,  capped  them  on,  when  they 
carried  it  back  to  the  meadow  where  they  had  first  found, 
and  then  gave  it  up. 

Among  those  out  were:  B.  Chew,  M.F.H.;  Bob  and  Mrs. 
Strawbridge;  Harry  Harrison;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  Mrs. 
Mills;  Mrs.  Victor  Mather;  the  Misses  deCoppet,  of  New 
York;  the  Misses  Cassatt;  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Ned 


78  '  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Blabon;  J.  S.  Wain;  Ned  Dougherty;  Rowland  Comly; 
Harry  and  Miss  Barclay;  Ben  Holland;  William  Evans; 
Julian  Biddle;  Mrs.  Devereux;  Howard  and  Mrs.  Henry; 
and  Jack  Potter,  first  whipper-in  to  the  Brandywine. 

Wednesday,  22nd  November,  1916 

AFTER  the  rather  disappointing  day  the  Middlesex  hounds 
had  on  Monday,  our  hopes  for  better  scenting  conditions 
to-day  were  not  very  high,  as  we  left  for  the  meet  at  Brom- 
all  at  nine  o'clock. 

It  was  clear,  dry,  and  dusty,  and,  to  make  matters 
worse,  a  faint,  southerly  wind;  but  a  fair-sized  field  turned 
out. 

Higginson  and  his  servants  were  on  bays,  as  was  Will 
Leverton  to  show  him  round.  The  first  draw  was  Marsh's 
wood,  below  Bromall,  where  as  usual  the  fox  was  viewed 
away  over  the  meadows.  Hounds  opened  to  the  line  beau- 
tifully, carrying  it  on  across  the  brook  and  over  the  road 
into  Mullin's  farm,  where  scent  was  very  catchy,  hounds 
working  well,  but  slowly,  on  down  Mullin's  meadow  into 
his  wood,  where  instead  of  turning  left-handed  as  usual, 
they  went  on  through  the  wood  and  across  the  road  into 
the  State  Farm,  and  on  across  the  new  cemetery  property 
to  a  field  north  of  the  Eagle  Road,  where  scent  failed  com- 
pletely. After  a  couple  of  casts,  hounds  were  taken  back 
into  the  Butler  Farm,  drawing  the  Leedom  Mills  Wood  and 
on  through  to  Moore's,  and  into  Wild's  wood,  where  the 
Middlesex  second  whipper-in  holloaed  another  fox  away. 

Hounds  being  lifted  to  the  view,  carried  it  over  the  Law- 
rence Road  into  Dr.  Chamber's,  and  on  to  Marsh's  wood, 
where  our  first  find  had  been,  but,  owing  to  the  extreme 
dryness,  could  do  nothing  further  with  it,  and,  after  sev- 
eral fruitless  casts,  hounds  were  taken  to  McCullough's 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  79 

and  on  to  the  Larchmont  Swamp,  to  the  Radnor  Barrens, 
and  all  around  there,  but  nothing  could  be  found,  so  were 
taken  in. 

The  country  seemed  too  dry  for  hounds  to  do  anything, 
especially  after  about  ten  o'clock. 

Among  those  out  were:  B.  Chew,  M.F.H.;  M.  R.  Jack- 
son, M.F.H.  Rose  Tree;  Bon  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Harry 
Harrison;  Miss  G.  deCoppet;  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt; 
Henry  Collins;  Emanuel  Hey;  Walter  Roach;  Walter  Jef- 
fords; Mrs.  Paul  Mills;  Wm.  F.  Reeve  and  son;  Ned 
Dougherty;  Nelson  Buckley;  Mrs.  Victor  Mather;  and 
Mrs.  A.  J.  A.  Devereux. 

Thursday,  2yd  November,  1916 

As  it  had  been  a  very  stormy  night,  with  a  high  wind,  and 
in  fact  still  raining  in  fits  and  starts,  only  a  few  of  the  more 
enthusiastic  turned  up  at  the  meet;  but  as  it  was  the  first 
time  in  several  weeks  that  one  could  say  was  a  good  scent- 
ing day,  Alex.  Higginson  and  I  decided  to  go  rain  or  shine. 
As  it  turned  out,  we  were  very  glad  we  did,  for  hounds  ran 
well  for  fifty-five  minutes  from  William  Evans's  meadow, 
where  we  found  at  once,  going  away  towards  Boyer  Davis's 
wood,  turning  left-handed,  through  the  farm,  on  through 
the  wood  to  a  drain  on  Klemm's  drive,  where  hounds  marked 
their  fox  under.  Klemm's  farmer  came  out  to  see  the  excite- 
ment and,  producing  a  long  pole, pushed  the  fox  out;  hounds 
carrying  him  at  a  good  pace  through  the  swamp  again,  and 
back  to  the  Davis  Farm,  when  he  turned  left-handed, 
pointing  his  mask  towards  the  Malvern  Barrens,  but  was 
evidently  headed,  for  he  swung  down-country,  through  the 
Disston  Farm  to  the  meadow  at  the  lower  end,  then  out 
to  the  Davis's  gateway,  where  it  looked  for  an  instant  as  if 
he  had  gone  into  the  drain;  but  a  self-made  cast  by  the 


80  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

pack  put  them  straight  again  and  they  flew  down  the  mea- 
dow, on  into  Evans's  pasture,  where  a  very  amusing  inci- 
dent took  place.  Hounds  were  racing  along  with  the  small 
field  right  behind  them,  Will  Leverton,  the  huntsman,  out 
in  front,  when,  on  coming  to  the  gate  of  the  Evans  meadow, 
Leverton,  on  "Slim  Brown"  very  cleverly  jumped  it,  so 
Fred  Sturges  set  sail  for  it,  too,  with  Ben  Chew,  M.F.H., 
calling  out  to  him,  "Don't  jump  that  gate!  Don't  jump 
that  gate!"  But  Fred  went  on, his  horse  "Grandma"  hit- 
ting it  with  an  awful  crash,  and  not  just  breaking  the  top 
board,  but  breaking  the  gate  all  to  pieces  and  quite  beyond 
repair. 

Ben  Chew  was  furious,  and  called  out,  "Sturges,  that 
will  cost  you  five  dollars!  Sturges,  that  will  cost  you  five 
dollars!" 

Hounds  threw  up  their  noses  at  that  moment,  whether 
from  fright  or  the  sound  of  the  crash,  but,  at  any  rate,  long 
enough  for  Sturges  to  hand  out  the  five  dollars  to  the  Mas- 
ter, while  the  field  sat  around  and  roared  with  laughter. 

Hounds  went  on  in  a  moment,  but  shortly  were  at  fault 
again  in  the  wood  in  the  hollow  along  the  road.  After  sev- 
eral unsuccessful  casts,  the  job  was  given  up,  and  hounds 
moved  off"  to  fresh  coverts,  but  nothing  so  good  was  done 
the  rest  of  the  day. 

The  few  out  were:  B.  Chew,  M.F.H.;  A.  Henry  Higgin- 
son,  M.F.H.;  Harry  W.  Harrison;  Mrs.  Paul  D.  Mills; 
Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  the  Misses  deCoppet  of  New  York; 
Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins;  and  Ben  Holland. 

Friday,  24$  November,  1916 

RADNOR  having  had  a  fair  run  yesterday,  and  conditions 
being  greatly  improved,  owing  to  the  rain,  I  feel  that  Hig- 
ginson  should  have  been  taken  down-country  after  having 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  81 

accounted  for  his  first  fox  to-day,  instead  of  up-country, 
where  all  the  coverts  had  already  been  drawn  twice  before 
this  week. 

However,  Higginson  is  a  sportsman  of  the  first  water 
and  hunted  where  he  was  taken. 

He  was  riding  "London  Smoke"  again,  with  his  whippers- 
in  on  greys  also,  and  Will  Leverton  on  "Rugby,"  as  pilot, 
the  first  draw  being  the  Norris  Wood.  Hounds  went  on 
through  it  into  the  meadow  along  the  creek  and  into  Earle's 
spinney,  when  Harry  Brown,  the  Radnor  first  whipper-in 
who  was  over  across  the  creek  on  top  of  Howard's  Hill, 
viewed  a  fox  and  holloaed  him  away.  Hounds,  being  cast 
over  the  creek,  picked  up  the  line  along  the  edge  of  the 
Earle  drive,  carrying  it  down  the  drive  with  a  good  deal  of 
cry,  and  a  catchy  scent,  until  near  the  little  lake  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  when  they  swung  right-handed  up  the  hill,  over 
the  grass  and  into  the  wood  at  the  top  at  a  good  pace,  to  a 
slight  check  on  the  north  side  overlooking  Yarnall's  Hollow. 
Hounds  then  sank  the  valley  bearing  slightly  left-handed 
and  up  the  far  side  into  the  wood  at  the  top,  when  they  bore 
right-handed  again  through  the  wood  road  and  on  down  the 
other  hill  into  Tryon  Lewis's  swamp,  then  on  into  the  north 
side  of  John  Brown's,  and  we  all  had  to  gallop  back  to  Mr. 
Brown's  farm  lane,  getting  even  with  hounds  just  as  they 
came  out  into  this  lovely  stretch  of  grass  and  galloping 
right  alongside  the  pack,  which  was  simply  flying  over  the 
turf,  perfectly  packed  and  in  full  cry,  on  across  to  the  drain 
on  the  back  drive,  where  they  marked  him  in.  As  it  is  im- 
possible to  bolt  foxes  from  this  drain,  hounds  were  cheered 
to  it,  thus  ending  a  very  good  sixteen  minutes,  which  put 
every  one  in  a  good  humor. 

The  next  draw  was  Harrison's  Meadows,  and  on  up- 
country  for  several  hours  finding  the  coverts  all  blank. 


82  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Charlie  Morris,  the  Middlesex  first  whip,  fell  into  a  big 
open  ditch,  west  of  Cathcart's  Rock,  going  clear  under  the 
slime  with  his  horse  on  top  of  him,  but  fortunately  coming 
out  none  the  worse,  except  being  covered  with  brown  scum. 

The  Radnor  Hunt  gave  a  luncheon  for  Higginson  at  the 
Club  House  at  two  o'clock,  to  which  about  fifty  came  and 
ate  of  the  very  good  game-pie,  etc.,  with  hot  toddy  and  the 
famous  Radnor  Yellow  Port. 

Among  those  hunting  and  at  the  luncheon  were:  Ben 
Chew,  M.F.H.,  and  Mrs.  Chew;  A.  Henry  Higginson, 
M.F.H.;  Jacob  S.  Wain;  R.  E.  Strawbridge;  Dave  and 
Mrs.  Sharp;  the  Misses  Beatrice  and  Gertrude  deCoppet; 
Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Edw.  B.  (Banker)  Smith;  Laurence 
Bodine;  Lemuel  C.  Altemus;  Edward  F.  Beale;  Mrs.  Paul 

D.  Mills;  Mrs.  Howard  H.  Henry;  Mrs.  Reeve;  Mrs.  Dev- 
ereux;  Mrs.  Victor  Mather;  Harry  W.  Harrison;  William 

E.  Carter;  Rowland  Comly;  Edwin  L.  Blabon;  Edwin 
V.  Dougherty;  Wycoff  Smith;  R.  Nelson  Buckley;  and 
Horace  B.  Hare. 

Tuesday,  26th  December,  1916 

FOLK  may  talk  with  pride  of  the  pace  of  a  run,  and  it's  all 
very  well  at  times,  when  the  going  is  good  and  one  has  not 
dined  too  well  the  night  before;  but  the  uncertainty  of 
foxhunting  and  the  condition  of  one's  nervous  system  are 
not  by  any  means  the  least  of  the  charms  of  a  day  with 
hounds. 

Take  to-day  as  an  example,  the  going  quite  as  bad  as 
even  the  Devil  himself  would  have  liked,  and  scent  just 
poor  and  catchy  enough  to  keep  hounds  working  all  the 
time.  Suppose  scent  had  been  top-hole,  where  would  the 
field  have  been?  Sadly  left  behind.  But,  as  it  was,  we 
were  able  to  stay  right  alongside  hounds  for  a  couple  of 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  83 

hours,  have  a  lot  of  enjoyment,  and  perhaps,  if  one  wants 
to,  learn  something  of  hound  lore.  Personally,  I  'd  rather 
have  a  run  a  little  slow  so  that  I  could  see  a  bit  of  hounds 
and  their  work,  that  lasted  an  hour  or  two,  than  a  very 
fast  twenty  minutes,  when  practically  one's  whole  atten- 
tion had  to  be  devoted  to  navigating  a  stiff  country. 
There's  plenty  who  will  not  agree  with  me  here,  I  know, 
but  what  a  blessing  we  don't  all  think  alike. 

The  Radnor  bitch  pack  met  this  morning  at  ten  o'clock 
at  Bromall,  and,  with  the  melting  snow  and  ice,  the  pros- 
pects for  a  good  day  were  not  bright,  to  say  the  least,  but 
scent  was  fair  at  times,  good  at  times,  and  also  very  poor  at 
times.  Where  the  snow  had  melted  or  blown  off,  scent  was 
wonderful,  and  the  pack  would  work  along  slowly  over  a 
field  of  snow,  then,  on  coming  to  a  field  quite  bare  of  snow, 
would  race  away  at  top-speed,  only  to  be  brought  to  their 
noses  again  at  the  next  place  where  there  was  snow.  Hounds 
began  to  feather  to  a  cold  line  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
State  Farm,  then  opened  up  with  a  roar  upon  reaching  a 
knoll  that  was  clear  of  snow,  and,  keeping  the  Lamb  Tav- 
ern on  their  left,  crossed  the  Springfield  Road  into  the  new 
cemetery  and  on  south  to  the  edge  of  the  wood,  where  they 
marked  their  fox  under  after  sixteen  minutes  of  very  pretty 
hound  work. 

The  Master  then  giving  instructions  to  draw  towards 
McCullough's  wood,  hounds  moved  on,  and  almost  imme- 
diately another  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  eastern  side 
of  the  Clarke  Thomson  Farm,  hounds  settling  on  the  line 
at  once;  carried  it  over  the  Ridley  Creek,  and,  swinging 
right-handed  up  the  meadow,  below  the  Tunis  house,  took 
us  out  to  the  road  over  a  barway  of  saplings  that  made 
horses  really  jump.  Then  on  across  the  Hutchinson  prop- 
erty and  across  the  Paxon  Hollow  Road;  turning  back 


84  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

here,  hounds  ran  to  the  hilltop  just  below  the  Rose  Tree 
Club  House,  and,  sinking  the  valley  once  more,  took 
us  back  to  practically  where  they  found,  and,  turning 
again,  came  back  to  Dr.  Hutchinson's,  ran  through  the 
Benson  covered  bridge,  and,  making  another  big  circle  of 
the  Rose  Tree  Hills,  finally  marking  their  fox  to  earth  on 
the  edge  of  the  wood  by  the  watering-trough  above  Palm- 
er's Mill.  So  far  as  I  can  remember,  it  is  the  only  day 
this  season  at  Radnor  when  there  were  no  ladies  out,  the 
field  being  composed  of  the  Master;  Bob  Strawbridge, 
on  a  very  playful  young  chestnut,  recently  brought  out 
from  Ireland;  Bob,  Jr.,  home  from  Harvard  for  the  holi- 
days; William  T.  Carter,  on  a  grey,  and  also  home  for  the 
holidays  from  Groton;  and  Nelson  Buckley. 

Thursday,  ^th  January,  1917 

THE  last  run  I  wrote  about  was  one  of  the  slow,  nose-to- 
the-ground,  hand-gallop  sort,  but  to-day's  was  of  exactly 
the  opposite  kind,  with  the  ground  frozen  like  iron  and 
rough  as  possible.  Hounds  made  a  four-and-a-quarter- 
mile  point  and  ran  quite  six  miles  in  twenty-seven  min- 
utes, marking  their  fox  in  Mr.  John  Brown's  drain,  after 
bringing  him  down  from  Wayne's  Swamp  without  a  check. 
Those  of  us  getting  it  being:  B.  Chew,  M.F.H.,  who 
turned  upside  down  in  jumping  the  fence  out  of  the  Happy 
Creek  Meadow,  but  fortunately  landed  on  his  back  in  a 
snowdrift;  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Dave  Sharp;  Henry  and 
Mrs.  Collins;  William  Carter,  Jr.;  Ben  Holland;  Miss 
Margaret  Hopper;  Mrs.  Snowden;  and  "Pick"  Harrison. 

Tuesday,  gth  January,  1917 

SCENT  —  there's  been  so  much  written  and  said  about  it 
by  really  experienced  hound  men  that  a  rank  amateur  like 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  85 

myself  had  better  leave  the  subject  alone;  but,  at  any  rate, 
it's  seldom  that  every  pack  of  hounds  in  a  country  have  an 
exceptionally  good  run  the  same  day.  Once  in  a  while  you 
hear  of  it,  but  it's  generally  something  like  this  —  it's  a 
non-hunting  day,  say  Wednesday,  and  you  are  having 
luncheon  at  your  club  in  town,  at  what  George  H.  Brooke 
calls  the  foxhunters'  table.  Mr.  Rose  Tree  asks  Mr. 
Cheshire  what  sort  of  a  day  he  had  yesterday,  and  Mr. 
Cheshire  says,  "Fair,  only  fair;  scent  very  spotty;  plenty 
of  foxes,  but  we  could  n't  do  much  ";  and  Mr.  Rose  Tree,  on 
being  asked,  will  say,  "O!  we  had  a  boiler,  hounds  ran  four 
hours  and  a  half  all  round  our  lower  country";  when  Mr. 
Radnorite  will  pipe  up  and  say,  "We  could  n't  do  much; 
put  one  under,  but  not  a  real  run;  south  wind  you  know'*; 
but  Mr.  Glenn  Riddle  tells  you  his  hounds  only  stayed  out 
about  an  hour,  as  they  viewed  two  foxes  away  right  in  front 
of  hounds  and  they  could  n't  even  speak  to  the  line:  then 
Mr.  Brandywine,  having  finished  his  oysters,  says,  "That's 
funny,  is  n't  it,  for  our  hounds  had  one  of  the  best  days  of 
the  season;  ran  from  right  back  of  the  kennels  to  the  out- 
skirts of  Downingtown  in  just  about  an  hour";  and  so  it 
goes.  Scent  may  be  splendid  in  Thurstington  Wood,  but 
just  across  the  turnpike  in  Brookthorpe  there's  not  a 
vestige  of  a  smell. 

But  to-day  all  the  neighboring  packs  found  a  breast- 
high  scent,  hounds  fairly  racing  at  top  speed. 

The  Rose  Tree  ran  an  hour  and  forty-five  minutes  to  a 
kill;  Mr.  Riddle's  hounds  ran  clean  away  from  every  one; 
and  after  I  had  come  home  from  a  very  fast  thing  with  the 
Radnor,  I  could  hear  hounds  running  in  the  country  south 
of  my  house  for  a  long  time. 

We  met  this  morning  at  Battles'  Wood  (Brooks)  at  ten 
o'clock,  hounds  picking  up  a  line  on  the  west  side,  almost 


86  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

immediately  they  were  cast  in,  and,  working  through  to  the 
east  side,  pushed  a  very  stout  fox  out.  Fred  Phillips  view- 
ing him  away  and  holloaing,  hounds  raced  through  the 
timber  to  a  check  on  the  Austin  Farm,  then  carried  the 
line  rather  slowly  down  the  hill  and  over  the  Goshen  Road 
into  the  swamp,  up  the  hill  to  a  moment's  check  north  of 
the  West  Chester  Pike,  then  over  just  below  the  spot 
where  Charlie  Snowden  was  killed  a  few  years  ago,  and  on 
into  the  lovely  big  meadows  at  a  racing  pace  to  the  Dun- 
woody  Home,  hounds  going  just  north  of  the  buildings, 
then  left-handed,  when  they  sank  the  valley  and  fairly  flew 
on  down  the  Ridley  Creek  to  Trimble's  Hollow  Bridge. 
Crossing  the  creek  they  appeared  to  be  heading  for  Upper 
Providence,  and,  as  all  the  field  had  to  go  on  to  the  road 
and  through  the  covered  bridge  to  cross  the  creek,  hounds 
slipped  out  of  sight. 

Thinking  the  fox  was  pointing  his  mask  southward,  we 
galloped  out  to  the  Providence  Road,  expecting  to  get  on 
even  terms  with  them  there,  but,  on  getting  to  the  hilltop, 
found  hounds  were  nowhere  in  sight.  No  one  was  with 
them,  that  we  were  sure  of.  Deciding  that  the  fox  must 
have  doubled  back  after  crossing  the  creek,  we  galloped 
down  again  into  Florida  Swamp,  and  up  to  the  hilltop  by 
the  Dunwoody  Home,  with  horses  hot  and  ready  for  a 
check,  but  hounds  nowhere  in  sight,  and  the  time  forty- 
seven  minutes  since  the  find,  with  the  greater  part  of  it  at 
one's  best  pace. 

After  waiting  about  some  time,  and  with  many  sugges- 
tions of  what  had  become  of  hounds,  several  of  the  field  de- 
cided they  had  had  enough  and  started  to  ride  out  towards 
Newtown  Square.  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges,  in  going  to- 
wards the  Florida  Wood,  saw  the  pack  marking  their  fox 
to  earth  on  the  edge  of  the  wood,  just  back  of  the  hill  where 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  87 

we  all  were,  so  Fred  came  and  told  us,  and  we  were  greatly 
relieved  at  finding  ourselves  right  after  all. 

Most  of  us  came  home  from  there,  having  had  forty- 
seven  minutes  of  very  quick  work. 

Among  those  out  were:  B.  Chew,  M.F.H.;  Bob  and  Mrs. 
Strawbridge;  Mrs.  A.  J.  A.  Devereux;  Horace  B.  Hare; 
Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges;  Isaac  H.  Clothier,  Jr.;  Frederick 
Phillips,  Jr.;  the  Misses  Ellen  Mary  and  Eugenia  Cassatt; 
R.  Nelson  Buckley;  "Pick"  Harrison;  Charlie  Munn; 
Gurnee  Munn;  Ben  Holland;  E.  V.  Dougherty;  and  Miss 
Emily  Barclay. 

Wednesday,  loth  January,  1917 

ONE  does  not  quite  know  whether  one  ought  to  describe  a 
Hunt  Ball  as  the  meeting-place  of  young  widows  in  ash 
cloth  and  sashes,  bold  bad  men  and  foxhunters,  —  whom 
the  impossible  one  Wilde  once  described  as  the  unspeak- 
able pursuers  of  the  uneatable,  —  or  whether  as  the  best 
dance  in  the  world,  provided  one  has  wined  and  dined 
sufficiently  beforehand.  It  is  the  sort  of  thing  one  enjoys 
enormously,  or  you  do  not  enjoy  it  at  all. 

Hunt  balls  in  Philadelphia  do  not  come  every  year,  and 
from  its  success,  I  guess  'most  every  one  enjoyed  it;  at  any 
rate,  it  had  been  ten  years  since  the  last  one,  so  no  one 
could  be  tired  of  them. 

The  President,  Mr.  Beale,  appointed  Messrs.  Benjamin 
Chew,  M.F.H.,  T.  DeWitt  Cuyler,  William  S.  Ellis, 
Horace  B.  Hare,  and  W.  Plunket  Stewart  a  committee  to 
arrange  for  the  ball,  which  they  did  to  perfection. 

Mrs.  Chew  arranged  the  quadrille,  in  which  there  were 
six  sets,  or  forty-eight  foxhunters  in  all,  and,  after  a  lot  of 
amusing  rehearsing,  all  felt  equal  to  the  occasion,  or,  at 
least,  said  they  did. 


88  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Will  Leverton,  huntsman,  and  Harry  Brown,  first 
whipper-in,  in  pink,  stood  at  the  ballroom  door  giving  out 
the  following  hunting  songs: 

FIGURE  I 
WE'LL  ALL  GO  OUT  HUNTING  TO-DAY 

THERE  is  but  one  cure  for  all  maladies  sure, 

That  reacheth  the  heart  to  its  core; 

'T  is  the  sound  of  the  horn,  on  a  fine  hunting  morn, 

And  where  is  the  heart  wishing  more? 

It  turneth  the  grave  into  gay, 

Bids  sorrow  to  pleasure  give  way, 

Makes  the  old  become  young, 

And  the  weak  become  strong, 

So  we'll  all  go  out  hunting  to-day. 

We'll  all  go  out  hunting  to-day, 

All  nature  looks  blooming  and  gay; 

Let  us  join  the  glad  throng 

That  goes  laughing  along, 

For  we  '11  all  go  out  hunting  to-day. 

FIGURE  II 
DRINK,  PUPPY,  DRINK 

HERE'S  to  the  fox  in  his  earth  below  the  rocks! 

And  here's  to  the  line  that  we  follow, 

And  here's  to  the  hound  with  his  nose  upon  the  ground, 

Though  merrily  we  whoop,  and  we  holloa. 

Then  drink,  puppy,  drink,  and  let  every  puppy  drink, 

That  is  old  enough  to  lap  and  to  swallow, 

For  he'll  grow  into  a  hound.  So  we'll  pass  the  bottle  round, 

And  merrily  we'll  WHOOP,  and  we'll  holloa! 

FIGURE  III 
A  SOUTHERLY  WIND 

A  SOUTHERLY  wind  and  a  cloudy  sky 

Proclaim  it  a  hunting  morning, 

Before  the  sun  rises  away  we  fly, 

Dull  sleep  on  our  downing  bed  scorning. 

Then  to  horses,  my  brave  boys,  and  away, 

It's  a  beautiful  hunting  morning. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  89 

The  face  of  all  nature  looks  gay, 

Bright  Phoebus  the  hills  is  adorning. 
Hark!  hark!  forward!  Tally  ho,  tally  ho,  tally  ho. 
Hark!  hark!  forward!  Tally  ho,  tally  ho,  tally  ho. 

FIGURE  IV 
JOHN  PEEL 

D'YE  ken  John  Peel  with  his  coat  so  grey, 

D  'ye  ken  John  Peel  at  the  break  of  the  day, 

D'ye  ken  J°nn  Peel  when  he's  far,  far  away, 

With  his  hounds  and  his  horn  in  the  morning? 

'T  was  the  sound  of  his  horn  brought  me  from  my  bed, 

And  the  cry  of  his  hounds  has  me  oft-times  led 

For  Peel's  view  halloa  would  waken  the  dead, 

Or  a  fox  from  his  lair  in  the  morning. 

To  be  sung  during  the  quadrille,  and  at  twelve-thirty, 
Will  blew  "  Gone  away"  on  his  hunting  horn  to  clear  the 
floor. 

We  marched  downstairs,  my  partner  for  the  quadrille, 
Miss  Josephine  Mather,  falling  down,  much  to  every  one's 
amusement.  There  was  such  applause  when  the  quadrille 
was  finished  that  we  had  to  do  it  all  over  again,  after  which 
we  marched  in  to  supper.  Those  in  the  quadrille  being:  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Benjamin  Chew;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  E.  Straw- 
bridge;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  Plunket  Stewart;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Robert  L.  Montgomery;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chas.  Wheeler; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Paul  D.  Mills;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Stanley 
Reeve;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wm.  J.  Clothier;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John 
R.  Valentine;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wm.  S.  Ellis;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Howard  H.  Henry;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  Frazier  Harrison; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Victor  C.  Mather;  Mrs.  A.  J.  Antelo  Dever- 
eux;  Miss  Margot  E.  Scull;  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt; 
Miss  Mather;  Mr.  Chas.  A.  Munn;  Mr.  Francis  V.Lloyd; 
Mr.  Francis  Richmond;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Isaac  H.  Clothier; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edw.  Browning;  the  men  in  pink  dress- 


9o  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

coats  and  shorts,  the  ladies  in  white  or  silver  dresses  with 
scarlet  sashes  across  one  shoulder. 

Mr.  Cuyler  kindly  gave  the  decorations,  including  a 
wonderful  hunting  scene,  painted  on  a  canvas  the  size  of 
the  end  of  the  ballroom,  and,  being  banked  in  the  fore- 
ground with  palms,  etc.,  made  the  room  seem  very  long,  and 
was  quite  a  distinguishing  feature  of  the  ball. 

Most  of  the  prominent  hunts  of  the  country  were  repre- 
sented at  the  ball,  among  them  being:  A.  Henry  Higgin- 
son,  M.F.H.,  and  Mrs.  Higginson,  Middlesex;  Harry  S. 
Page,  Meadow  Brook;  James  K.  Maddox,  Warren  ton; 
Thomas  Cottman,  Green  Spring;  and  others  from  Myopia, 
Harford,  Elkridge,  Rose  Tree,  Cheshire,  Pickering,  Cotts- 
more,  White  Marsh,  Mr.  Riddle's,  Brandywine,  etc. 

The  Admiral  made  quite  the  hit  of  the  evening,  and, 
although  surrendering  his  sword  and  buttons,  stood  by 
his  ship  until  she  sank. 

Thursday,  nth  January,  1917 

IT  was  truly  a  cold  grey  dawn  of  the  morning  after,  when 
hounds  met  at  the  kennels  to-day,  and  a  rather  jaded, 
sorry-looking  lot  of  foxhunters  turned  out  in  the  very, 
very  cold  wind,  so  a  bottle  of  the  famous  Radnor  Yellow 
Port  was  opened  for  good  luck  before  hounds  met. 

Fortunately  hounds  found  at  once  in  Mr.  George  Earle's 
big  meadow,  and  went  away  across  his  lawn  to  the  wood 
above  the  house,  sank  the  valley,  crossing  the  breast  of  the 
dam  and  up  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  pond,  and 
on  into  Yarnall's  Hollow,  on  over  the  road  into  Tryon 
Lewis's  swamp  to  Mr.  John  Brown's  where  hounds  swung 
right-handed  out  across  the  Creek  Road  into  Tryon  Lewis's 
and  on  to  Bob  Montgomery's,  where  the  fox  went  into  a 
drain  on  his  driveway.  A  passing  friendly  motor  was  sent 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  91 

to  the  kennels  for  the  terriers,  and,  after  waiting  nearly 
half  an  hour  in  the  cold,  which  about  froze  every  one  stiff 
the  terriers  arrived  and  were  put  into  the  drain.  The  fox 
was  bolted  at  once,  heading  south;  hounds  had  difficulty 
carrying  the  line,  but  finally  took  us  over  into  Yarnall's 
Hollow  again,  where  scent  failed  completely,  and  every 
one  quite  ready  to  go  back  to  the  Club  to  thaw  out. 

Among  those  out  were:  B.  Chew,  M.F.H.;  Mrs.  C.  R. 
Snowden;  D.  B.  Sharp;  Henry  C.  Barclay;  Bob  Straw- 
bridge;  Julian  Biddle;  Harry  Harrison;  Miss  Betty 
Sinnickson;  Miss  Austin;  William  M.  Kerr;  Nelson 
Buckley;  and  Walter  Stokes. 

Saturday,  20th  January,  1917 

FOXHUNTING  has  no  law,  but  only  custom  and  etiquette 
to  fall  back  upon,  and  it  is  therefore  always  a  great  relief 
to  a  sporting  community  when  any  little  difficulties  or 
differences  in  a  countryside  are  patched  up. 

Rose  Tree  and  Radnor  have  had  some  slight  misun- 
derstanding recently  over  what  is  known  as  the  lower 
country.  It  so  happened  on  several  occasions  that  both 
packs  of  hounds  appeared  in  the  same  locality  the  same 
day.  Finally  a  meeting  of  the  respective  Masters  was  ar- 
ranged. No,  not  to  fight,  as  had  been  jokingly  suggested, 
but  to  settle  their  differences  by  a  friendly  talk.  Both 
Masters  took  along  a  few  wise  advisers,  and  the  out- 
come of  it  all  was  that  Radnor  was  to  hunt  the  country 
south  of  the  West  Chester  Pike,  three  times  a  month,  and 
on  those  days  the  Rose  Tree  hounds  were  to  hunt  else- 
where. But  the  joke  of  it  was,  that  the  very  next  time 
Radnor  met  in  the  lower  country,  Rose  Tree  was  also 
there.  Some  people,  whose  names  had  better  not  be 
mentioned,  were  pretty  mad;  but  Mr.  Rose  Tree  apolo- 


92  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

gized,  having  mistaken  the  dates,  and  everything  was 
smooth  sailing  from  then  on. 

And  so  to-day  we  had  a  love  feast,  the  Rose  Tree  and 
Radnor  hounds  meeting  together  at  Bromall  at  ten 
o'clock;  Radnor  putting  down  a  mixed  pack  of  fifteen  and 
one  half  couples  and  Rose  Tree  about  the  same  number. 

The  fox  from  Marsh's  wood  was  at  home,  was  viewed 
away,  and  gave  us  a  very  nice  thirty-four  minutes  out 
across  the  forbidden  Dr.  Chambers  farm,  into  Moore's 
and  Hatton's,  then  on  over  the  State  Farm,  and,  keeping 
the  Lamb  Tavern  and  Springfield  Meeting  House  on  their 
right,  hounds  fairly  raced  down-country,  marking  their 
fox  to  earth  at  the  foot  of  an  old  chestnut  tree  on  the 
Farnum  property. 

Reynard  number  two  went  out  of  a  bit  of  wood  below 
the  Hutchinson  Farm,  hounds  fairly  boiling,  and  horses 
blowing.  I  don't  think  I  ever  rode  up  and  down  so  many 
hills  in  my  life,  for  this  fox  was  a  circling  brute  and  played 
around  the  Rose  Tree  hills  until  our  horses  were  practi- 
cally cooked.  Then  this  fox  evidently  asked  the  assist- 
ance of  a  friend  of  his,  for  the  packs  split  and  we  said  the 
Radnor  hounds  were  running  the  hunted  fox,  and  the 
Rose  Tree  people,  of  course,  said  theirs  were.  Neverthe- 
less, after  a  couple  more  turns  through  the  hills,  the  two 
lines  crossed  and  both  packs  were  together  again;  and, 
racing  over  the  big  grass  fields  of  Dr.  Hutchinson,  swam 
the  river  and  marked  their  fox  to  ground  after  an  hour  and 
thirty-five  minutes,  and  just  as  the  Media  whistles  were 
blowing  one  o'clock. 

As  the  Rose  Tree  luncheon  was  not  scheduled  until  two, 
it  gave  us  time  to  sit  and  warm  our  toes  and  backs  before 
the  fire,  and  incidentally  assisted  by  flight  after  flight  of 
pink  cocktails,  colored  by  the  pink  roses  of  the  original 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  93 

Rose  Tree,  as  Sam  Riddle  said.  They  had  quite  the  de- 
sired effect;  pink  like  the  Rose  Tree,  or  green  like  the 
Radnor  pastures,  it  made  no  difference!  Every  one 
loved  every  one  else  and  the  food  was  good;  what  more 
could  foxhunters  ask  after  two  good  runs? 

Mrs.  Jackson,  of  Rose  Tree,  brought  Miss  Blanche  Ring, 
who,  after  speeches  by  Mr.  Beale,  Mr.  Riddle,  Mr.  Jack- 
son, and  Mr.  Chew,  sang  several  of  her  favorite  songs,  in- 
cluding that  wonderful  "Rings  on  her  fingers  and  bells  on 
her  toes,"  which  was  quite  the  hit  of  the  day.  Sam  Riddle 
then  sang  the  "Sign  of  the  Rose."  Several  people  wept, 
but  Roy  Jackson  saved  the  situation  by  bringing  in  a  tame 
fox  on  a  lead.  It  was  fed  on  the  table,  then  led  around  the 
grounds  and  put  safely  away;  the  kennel  doors  thrown 
open  and  the  whole  Rose  Tree  pack  came  out  with  a  roar. 
They  picked  up  the  line  with  a  burst  of  music  that  could 
be  heard  for  miles,  ran  it  halfway  round,  and  then  went 
off  down-country  all  on  their  own,  but  evidently  on  the 
line  of  another  fox,  and  finally  disappeared  over  the  hill- 
tops, undoubtedly  having  the  time  of  their  young  lives. 

Among  those  hunting  and  at  the  luncheon  were:  The 
Master  and  Mrs.  Jackson  of  Rose  Tree;  the  Master  and 
Mrs.  Chew  of  Radnor;  the  Master  and  Mrs.  Riddle  of 
Mr.  Riddle's  hounds;  Mr.  Beale;  Mrs.  Snowden;  Walter 
and  Mrs.  Jeffords;  Mrs.  Victor  C.  Mather;  Mrs.  J.  Stanley 
Reeve;  Bob  and  Miss  Montgomery;  Laurence  Bodine; 
William  F.  Reeve  and  Foster  Reeve;  Leander  Riddle; 
Misses  Ellen  Mary  and  Eugenia  Cassatt;  Mr.  Kerr; 
Walter  and  Mrs.  Roach;  Frank  Lloyd;  F.  Wallis  Arm- 
strong; Gardner  Cassatt,  Emanuel  Hey;  Eddie  Dale;  Ned 
Blabon;  Nelson  Buckley;  John  Converse;  Lem  Altemus; 
Geo.  Brooke  III;  and  Wm.  Churchman. 


94  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Thursday,  ist  February,  1917 

THE  tragedies  of  the  hunting-field  seem  to  occur  in  va- 
rious ways,  not  only  when  actually  in  the  field,  but  some- 
times when  apparently  safe  at  home.  Last  night  the  stable 
on  the  Providence  Road  near  the  Rose  Tree  Kennels, 
rented  by  George  Saportas,  was  completely  destroyed  by 
fire,  and  with  it  his  entire  string  of  eight  horses,  also  two  of 
Mr.  Kerr's,  "Hazy,"  the  well-known  cross-country  horse 
and  "Mobell,"  and  "Aunt  Fanny,"  a  bay  mare  belonging 
to  Miss  Betty  Sinnickson,  and  a  very  promising  chestnut 
colt,  "Happy  Creek,"  that  I  had  only  just  delivered  to 
Saportas  yesterday. 

George  Donnon,  his  stud  groom,  an  ex-whipper-in  at 
Radnor,  was  also  burned  to  death. 

Fifteen  horses  in  all  and  several  cows  were  lost. 

Thursday,  22nd  February,  1917 
"  Washington's  Birthday" 

IT'S  seldom  we  have  a  season  at  Radnor  without  a  few 
weeks  of  weather  that  puts  a  complete  stop  to  hunting; 
but  it's  also  seldom  that  we  cannot  hunt  up  to  the  end  of 
March;  but  this  year,  owing  to  the  soft  going,  rain  and 
snow,  etc.,  the  run  on  the  above  date  was  practically  the 
last  of  any  moment.  There  were  other  days,  but  conditions 
were  such  that  the  field  was  kept  to  the  roads,  and  in  fact  at 
times  the  country  was  so  deep  that  hounds  could  hardly  run. 
The  Master  and  Mrs.  Chew  gave  their  annual,  delight- 
ful breakfast  at  the  kennels  this  morning  at  nine  o'clock, 
when  about  seventy-five  foxhunting  friends  and  farmers 
were  on  hand,  and  also  that  good  sporting  farmer,  Sam 
Kirk,  and  his  hounds;  Mrs.  Chew,  as  usual,  being  the  ideal 
hostess,  and  always  making  the  somewhat  awed  farmer's 
wife  feel  very  much  at  home. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  95 

Hounds  moved  off  at  ten-thirty  and  picked  up  a  good 
line  in  Mr.  Earle's  wood,  carrying  it  over  the  hill  into  Yar- 
nall's  Hollow,  and,  keeping  Waterloo  Mills  on  their  right, 
rolled  their  fox  over  in  the  McGovern  meadow,  after  a  very 
short  but  fast  gallop. 

Having  seen  a  fox  sitting  in  the  wood  on  the  upper  side 
of  Yarnall's  Hollow  as  we  galloped  through,  I  told  the  Mas- 
ter, and  hounds  were  taken  back  there.  They  owned  the 
line  at  once,  carrying  it  down  by  the  old  Tryon  Lewis  Mill, 
on  to  the  Brown  property;  then  circling  back  to  Yarnall's 
Hollow,  hounds  finally  marked  him  under  in  the  "  Broad 
Acres"  hillside. 

The  earth  was  stopped,  and  later  in  the  day  the  Master, 
Sam  Kirk,  and  his  son,  Harry  Brown,  the  first  whip,  and  a 
couple  of  kennel  boys  proceeded  to  dig  him  out.  We  all 
took  turns  at  digging,  but  it  was  slow  work,  as  there  was  a 
foot  of  frost  in  the  ground  and  the  earth  a  long  one.  As  I 
was  leaving  at  six  o'clock,  with  instructions  to  stop  at  the 
kennels  and  order  some  lanterns  sent  out,  Sam  Kirk  called 
out  —  "You  can  think  of  me  at  midnight  still  digging." 
He  was  nearly  right,  for  they  did  n't  get  to  their  fox  until 
eight-thirty. 

Among  those  at  the  breakfast  and  in  the  field  were:  Miss 
Ellen  Mary  Cassatt,  going  beautifully  as  usual;  the  Pres- 
ident, Mr.  Beale;  Harry  Barclay;  Gardner  Cassatt  on 
"Greymaster";  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt  on  "Tango";  Miss 
Barclay  on  "Sandy";  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp  on  chestnut 
colts;  Mrs.  Chew  and  R.  Penn  Smith  in  a  motor;  Mr.  Hat- 
field;  R.  Nelson  Buckley  on  the  "Iron  Woman";  Miss 
Sinnickson  on  "Uncle  Joe,"  but  with  an  eye  on  some  one 
else  who  was  on  a  chestnut;  Harry  and  Mrs.  Harrison; 
Mrs.  Devereux  on  "Dave  Waller";  George  Saportas;  Fred 
Sturges  on  "Pocono,"  and  Mrs.  Sturges,  in  her  usual  fault- 


96  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

less  style,  on  "Frosty";  Isaac  Clothier  on  "Judge";  Fred 
Phillips;  "Buzzy"  Smith;  Ben  Holland;  Mr.  Delmas; 
Hector  McNeal;  Dr.  Edgar  Powell  on  a  very  nice-looking 
chestnut;  Miss  Hopper;  Frank  Lloyd  on  "Sherry";  and 
the  two  Ashton  children  on  ponies. 

24th  February,  1917 

THE  following  bit  of  appropriate  verse  by  M.  V.  Wynter, 
was  on  the  back  of  the  menu  card  at  the  dinner  given  last 
night  at  the  Riding  Club,  New  York,  by  the  Masters  of 
Fox  Hounds'  Association,  in  honor  of  General  Sir  Charles 
Gunning,  Bart.,  C.M.G.  of  the  British  Remount  Service: 

There's  a  Vale  for  which  I'm  sighing, 
I  can  see  its  fences  still, 
And  my  thoughts  go  backward  flying, 
With  the  pack  to  Golden  Hill. 
I  can  hear  that  welcome  holloa. 
"G-o-n-e  away!  He's  broke  at  last!" 
Hear  the  thundering  hoofs  that  follow, 
As  I  ride  into  the  Past. 

Memories,  bitter  sweet,  come  thronging 

As  I  pace  the  prison  ground, 

And  my  heart  is  sick  with  longing 

For  a  sight  of  horse  and  hound. 

But  however  dear  the  days  be, 

Fair  or  foul,  or  rain  or  shine, 

Not  the  Fates  themselves  can  rob  me 

Of  those  Hunts  that  once  were  mine. 

Pause  a  moment,  oh,  my  brothers, 
Who  at  home  so  glibly  prate, 
How  you  hope  to  see  foxhunting 
Soon  abolished  by  the  State. 
We  have  fought  for  you,  and  gladly, 
Will  you  now  requite  us  thus? 
Kill  the  sport  we  love  so  madly? 
Think  what  hunting  means  to  usl 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  97 

For  the  sake  of  those  who 're  absent, 
For  the  sake  of  those  who 're  gone, 
All  those  gallant,  cheery  comrades 
Who  once  rallied  to  the  horn; 
For  the  youngster,  true  to  breeding, 
Longing  now  the  game  to  learn  — 
Hear  us  soldier  exiles  pleading, 
Keep  it  going  till  we  return. 

315*  March,  1917 

UPON  the  return  of  the  First  Troop,  Philadelphia  City 
Cavalry,  known  as  the  City  Troop,  from  the  Mexican 
Border,  where  they  had  spent  several  months,  it  was  de- 
cided to  hold  a  Troop  Race,  known  as  the  Border  Plate, 
and  it  was  run  this  afternoon  over  the  post  and  rail  course 
at  Erdenheim. 

There  was  a  good  crowd  on  hand  to  see  R.  H.  R.  "Bint" 
Toland  ride  his  "Sam  Ball"  to  victory,  with  "Merry 
Christmas,"  John  Converse  up,  second,  and  George  Brooke 
III  on  "Hopewell,"  third. 

The  other  entries  were:  R.  H.  R.  Toland's  "Bald  Face 
Charlie"  and  "Running  Water,"  "Effigy,"  belonging  to 
Philip  Fisher;  John  Converse's  "Hiawatha"  and  "El  Rey  "; 
"Flurry  Knox,"  owned  by  Effingham  B.  "Buck"  Morris; 
and  E.  F.  Revinus's  "Game  Chick." 

Saturday,  fill  April,  1917 

THE  Sixth  Annual  Running  for  the  Harston  Cup,  pre- 
sented by  Mr.  H.  Frazer  Harris,  was  held  at  Erdenheim  this 
afternoon,  and  won  by  Mr.  William  J.  Clothier's  "Bros- 
seau,"  ridden  by  Mr.  Gilbert  Mather,  from  a  field  of  nine, 
with  Welsh  Strawbridge's  "River  Breeze,"  owner  up,  sec- 
ond, and  Mr.  A.  J.  A.  Devereux,  on  his  "Rapacious," 
third;  the  "also  rans"  being:  Mr.  W.  W.  Lanahan's  "Ed- 
win Grey;  Mr.  Kline's  "Ruskin";  Mr.  Toland's  "Sam 


98  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Ball";  Mr.  Converse's  "Merry  Christmas";  Mr.  Riddle's 
"Glen  Riddle";  and  Mr.  Leiper's  "Miss  Oxford";  the 
previous  winners  of  this  cup  being:  1912,  Mr.  John  Straw- 
bridge's  "Grand  Master";  1913,  Mr.  C.  Mahlon  Kline's 
"Baldface  Charlie";  1914,  Brandy  wine  Stables'  "Rut- 
land"; 1915,  Mr.  William  J.  Clothier's  "Meltonere": 
1916,  Mr.  Welsh  Strawbridge's  "River  Breeze." 

Saturday,  i^th  April,  1917 

THERE  was  a  fair-sized  crowd  and  beautiful  weather  for 
the  Second  Radnor  Spring  Steeplechase  at  Happy  Creek 
Farms  to-day.  The  hostess,  Mrs.  Harrison,  more  charm- 
ing than  ever,  again  presented  the  plate  to  the  winner. 

Fourteen  horses  came  to  the  post,  Harry  Barclay  get- 
ting them  away  in  good  order.  It  was  a  beautiful  race  as 
they  galloped  down  the  slope  to  the  first  jump,  but,  on 
coming  around  over  the  hill,  the  pace  began  to  tell,  and 
Mrs.  Hagen's  "Jesuit,"  with  Harry  Tucker  up,  fell;  then 
out  by  the  far  turn  Gerry  Leiper,  on  "Miss  Oxford," 
turned  over,  followed  shortly  by  Bill  Clothier's  "  Brosseau" 
and  John  Converse's  "Merry  Christmas,"  with  the  owner 
up.  Welsh  Strawbridge  on  "River  Breeze"  had  a  good 
deal  the  best  of  it,  but,  unfortunately,  went  outside  one 
flag,  and,  although  coming  home  first,  was  disqualified  and 
the  race  given  to  Antelo  Devereux  on  "Rapacious,"  with 
second  money  to  "Bint"  Toland's  "Sam  Ball,"  with  Ed- 
die Cheston  up,  and  Clarence  Kline's  "Ruskin,"  third;  the 
"also  rans"  being  "Edwin  Grey"  and  "Cockspur," 
"Whirlwind,"  "Glen  Riddle,"  "Wild  Irishman,"  and 
"Rock  Abbey." 

Saturday,  2ist  April,  1917 

WHEN  C.  Mahlon  Kline,  Esq.,  took  over  the  Mastership 
at  White  Marsh,  the  Club  imported  a  pack  of  English 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  99 

hounds  to  replace  the  American  hounds  that  had  been 
in  kennel  during  the  regimes  of  Welsh  Strawbridge  and 
Gerry  Leiper. 

As  is  always  the  case,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  discus- 
sion as  to  the  advisability  of  an  English  pack;  but,  at  any 
rate,  the  new  hounds  arrived  in  due  course;  and,  as  there 
were  four  very  likely-looking  bitches  among  the  lot,  "  Sanc- 
tity," "Sandal,"  "Nameless,"  and  "Radish,"  four  good 
litters  of  puppies  were  whelped,  all  sired  by  "Lancer,"  a 
fine  big  upstanding  dog,  with  plenty  of  bone  and  quite 
good  feet. 

When  these  puppies  came  in  from  walk,  it  was  decided 
to  hold  the  first  (and  as  it  turned  out  to  be  the  last)  White 
Marsh  Valley  Hunt  Puppy  Show,  at  the  residence  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Francis  I.  Gowen  and  Miss  Marianna  Gowen,  at 
Chestnut  Hill.  It  was  a  beautiful  spring  day,  and,  after  a 
delightful  luncheon  on  the  terrace,  the  puppies  were  judged 
by  Robert  E.  Strawbridge,  Esq.,  M.F.H.,  Cottsmore. 

"Lively,"  an  extremely  nice  Belvoir  tan  dog  puppy,  out 
of  "Sandal,"  walked  by  Julian  C.  Biddle,  Esq.,  and,  put 
down  in  very  good  condition,  won  the  class  for  the  best 
walked  dog;  while  "Sorcerer,"  by  "Lancer"  out  of 
"Sanctity,"  and  walked  by  Miss  Gowen,  won  the  cup  pre- 
sented by  Mrs.  W.  Frazier  Harrison  for  the  best  dog  puppy. 

"Saucy,"  also  out  of  "Sanctity,"  won  Mr.  Welsh  Straw- 
bridge's  cup  for  the  best  bitch  puppy;  and  she  also  won  Mr. 
E.  B.  Smith's  cup,  given  for  the  best  puppy  in  the  Show. 

After  the  puppies,  the  old  hounds  were  brought  in  the 
ring.  "Lancer,"  the  sire  of  all  the  winning  puppies,  quite 
easily  won  over  the  other  dogs,  taking  Henry  C.  Barclay, 
Esq.'s  cup;  and  "Guesswork"  was  given  the  Howard  H. 
Henry  cup  for  the  best  bitch. 

Among  those  at  the  luncheon  and  show  were:  Mr.  and 


ioo  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Mrs.  Benjamin  Chew;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel  D.  Riddle; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  E.  Strawbridge;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W. 
Frazier  Harrison;  Mrs.  J.  Stanley  Reeve;  Miss  Ellen  Mary 
Cassatt;  Miss  Gertrude  Henry;  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt; 
Miss  Savage;  Miss  Margot  Scull;  Miss  Kitty  Smith; 
Messrs.  Henry  C.  Barclay,  C.  M.  Kline,  and  Russell  H. 
Johnson;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  A.  Barker  Mellor;  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  W.  H.  Mulford. 

Saturday,  12th  May,  1917 

THE  Master  of  the  Cheshire  hounds  was  host  to  all  the 
racing  and  foxhunting  fraternity  at  Chesterland  to-day, 
and,  barring  one  dark  cloud  that  dropped  a  bit  of  rain  on 
the  spotless  linen  spread  on  the  lawn,  the  hills  of  Chester 
County  never  looked  more  beautiful.  The  Sporting  World 
and  his  wife  were  there.  They  came  to  luncheon  and  they 
stayed  for  tea,  and  some  of  the  more  favored  stayed  to  din- 
ner and  passed  the  night. 

After  luncheon  under  the  lovely  pines,  Charles  E.  Ma- 
ther, Esq.,  M.F.H.  Brandywine,  assisted  by  his  huntsman, 
Thompson,  judged  the  Cheshire  young  entry,  consisting 
of  three  couples  of  dog  puppies  and  six  couples  of  bitches. 
"Commodore,"  an  exceptionally  nice  Belvoir  tan  dog  by 
"Pytchley  Driver,"  out  of  "Burton  Comfort,"  won  his 
class  for  the  best  dog  hound,  while  "Tissue,"  a  bitch  of 
great  quality  with  especially  good  bone  and  feet,  by  the 
"Cottsmore  Fisherman,"  out  of  "Heythrop  Tipsy,"  was 
awarded  the  blue  among  the  bitches. 

After  the  Puppy  Show  came  the  steeplechase  for  the 
Cheshire  Cup,  of  three  miles  over  a  hunting  country  for 
any  horse,  the  bona-fide  property  of,  and  ridden  by,  a  mem- 
ber of  a  recognized  hunt  or  a  farmer  of  Chester,  Delaware, 
or  Lancaster  Counties;  the  winner's  name  to  be  inscribed 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  101 

on  "The  Nimrod  Vase,"  presented  by  Mr.  M.  B.  Perkins. 

There  were  six  starters:  Welsh  Strawbridge's  "River 
Breeze,"  with  the  owner  up;  William  J.  Clothier's  "Wild 
Irishman";  Mrs.  Hagen's  "Jesuit,"  ridden  by  J.  Hunter 
Lucas;  Nelson  Buckley's  "Duster";  "Glen  Riddle,"  by 
"The  Bard,"  from  the  Glen  Riddle  Farms;  and  R.  H.  R. 
Toland's  "Sam  Ball,"  with  Eddie  Cheston  up. 

"Ruskin,"  "Brosseau,"  and  "Mayon  Head"  being 
scratched,  "Wild  Irishman"  made  the  running  awhile  at 
the  start,  but  the  long  hill  on  the  far  side  of  the'  course 
took  it  out  of  some  of  them,  and  "River  Breeze"  galloped 
home  quite  an  easy  winner. 


SEASON  OF  1917-1918 


SEASON  OF  1917-1918 

OWING  to  this  terrible  and  almost  universal  war,  certain 
economies  in  hunting  must  be  practised  by  those  who  stay 
at  home.  Those  who  stay  at  home  must  "carry  on"  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  lose  nothing  in  the  way  of  efficiency, 
yet  to  do  so  will  be  no  easy  task. 

It  is  one  of  the  beauties  of  foxhunting  that  the  sport  is 
not  at  all  dependent  on  the  scale  of  the  establishment  by 
which  it  is  carried  on.  Sport  depends  on  the  stoutness  of 
foxes,  on  the  skill  and  keenness  of  the  huntsman,  and  on 
the  steadiness  of  hounds.  Some  men  like  Sam  Kirk  would 
show  more  sport  with  one  horse  and  two  couples  of  hounds 
than  would  some  others  with  horses  and  hounds  galore. 

It  is  all  very  nice  to  have  things  on  a  liberal  scale  as  we 
have  had  in  the  past,  but  if  we  must  do  without,  we  must 
do  the  best  we  can. 

Ben  Chew,  M.F.H.,  Bob  Strawbridge,  and  I  met  at  the 
kennels  on  June  24th,  to  talk  over  the  situation,  and  en- 
deavor to  put  into  practice  some  system  of  economies 
whereby  the  usual  Radnor  standard  of  sport  could  be 
carried  on,  but  at  a  greatly  reduced  figure.  Cutting  down 
is  hard,  especially  so  when  it  comes  to  the  question  of 
putting  down  hounds,  but  it  had  to  be  done;  so  in  consul- 
tation with  the  huntsman,  we  drafted  the  following  five  and 
one-half  couples  at  once:  "Gaylad,"  "Life  Guard,"  "Fid- 
dler," "Firefly,"  "Flirt,"  "Fair Play,"  "Lilock,"  "Hasty," 
"Kirkie,"  "Dinch,"  and  "Boston." 

If  you  halve  the  number  of  hunting  days,  you  halve  the 
necessary  number  of  hounds;  halve  the  hours  of  the  day 
also,  and  you  quarter  the  number  of  hounds;  but  we  did  n't 
go  as  fast  as  that,  for  it  is  destroying  the  pack  and  perhaps 


io6  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

the  blood,  too,  and  as  Mr.  Dale,  in  the  Sporting  and  Dra- 
matte  News,  says:  "When  you  have  hounds  that  can  and  will 
race  a  fox  to  death  in  a  bad  scent,  your  equine  bill  will 
be  in  exact  proportion  to  your  canine  expenditure.  At  the 
top  of  expenditure  all  your  field  will  have  two  horses  out 
and  a  motor  car.  Your  hunt  servants  must  be  equally  well 
mounted  as  the  field,  for  whereas  in  one  of  the  latter  it  is  no 
sin  to  go  the  pace  he  prefers,  in  the  professional  class,  it  is  a 
crime  not  to  be  there." 

It  should  be  the  ideal  and  desire  of  every  whipper-in  to 
be  huntsman,  and,  although  a  great  loss  to  Radnor,  we 
were  all  delighted  when  Harry  Brown  was  given  the  op- 
portunity of  going  to  the  Cheshire  in  that  capacity.  It  left 
Radnor  in  a  sort  of  a  hole,  as  whippers-in  are  not  the  easi- 
est positions  to  fill,  and  especially  in  war-times.  A  substi- 
tute was  nevertheless  found  in  George  Heatley. 

Every  one  was  restless  and  thinking  of  what  he  could 
best  do  in  the  war,  and  towards  the  middle  of  summer,  the 
opportunity  came  for  a  good  many  sportsmen  in  the  Re- 
mount Service. 

The  Radnor  M.F.H.,  Benjamin  Chew,  accepted  a  com- 
mission as  Captain,  and  immediately  sent  in  his  resigna- 
tion to  the  Hunt.  A  special  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Gov- 
ernors was  called  for  ist  August,  1917,  at  the  kennels.  His 
resignation  was  not  accepted,  but  "laid  on  the  table";  and 
while  having  dinner  on  the  terrace,  the  following  Hunt 
Committee  was  appointed  to  carry  on  during  his  absence: 
W.  Hinckle  Smith,  Harry  W.  Harrison,  S.  Laurence  Bo- 
dine,  Rowland  Comly,  and  J.  Stanley  Reeve,  Chairman. 

Hunting  by  a  committee  has  not  been  a  success  since  the 
days  of  Jorrock's  onward.  A  Master  is,  and  should  be,  an 
autocrat  as  long  as  he  is  Master,  but  a  Hunt  Committee 
will  not  do. 


j'/iotoyraph  by  Harry  S.  Homl 


EDWARD  C.  DALE,  ESQ. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  107 

And  again,  to  quote  Mr.  Dale:  "A  Master  can  influence 
and  win  over  farmers.  Most  committees  would  fail  to  do 
this  for  reasons  obvious  to  any  one  with  experience." 

The  Radnor  Committee  was  not  a  success. 

Finally  the  President  called  a  meeting  of  the  Governors 
to  elect  a  Master  to  fill  the  vacancy  during  the  war,  and 
Mr.  Bodine  was  unanimously  chosen  to  carry  on,  and  did 
so  with  great  success. 

JULIAN  C.  BIDDLE  was  one  of  the  first  Radnor  men  to  give 
his  life  for  his  country.  I  remember  saying  good-bye  to  him 
at  the  corner  of  4th  and  Walnut,  the  day  before  he  sailed 
for  France. 

He  was  one  of  the  few  remaining  types  of  the  old-school 
sportsman,  and  was  willing  to  work  for  his  sport  and  go  to 
a  lot  of  trouble  to  have  a  morning's  gallop. 

During  cubbing,  when  hounds  leave  the  kennels  at  five- 
thirty  or  six  o'clock,  Julian  would  be  there  on  time,  always- 
smiling,  having  motored  over  from  Penllyn  in  the  dark  and 
gotten  up  certainly  not  later  than  four  o'clock.  He  often 
would  spend  the  night  at  the  Club  so  as  to  get  an  hour's 
ride  with  hounds  and  be  in  town  for  business  by  nine- 
thirty. 

There  are  very,  very  few  of  the  present  generation  of 
young  gentlemen  who  will  make  as  much  effort  to  have  a 
bit  of  sport;  the  great  tendency  of  the  day  being  to  want 
one's  pleasures  made  easy  and  convenient,  and  to  com- 
plain if  a  bit  of  exertion  has  to  be  made  to  get  sport  of 
any  kind. 

Julian  was  killed  the  morning  of  i8th  August,  1917, 
while  flying  from  Saint-Pol,  France,  to  Dunkirk.  Just  what 
caused  his  plane  to  fall  into  the  sea  appears  a  mystery;  but 
his  body  was  found  washed  upon  the  sand  dunes  that 


io8  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

guard  the  Netherlands  from  the  sea,  and  was  buried  in  the 
peaceful  little  coast  village  of  Egmond-aan-Zee. 

yd  September,  1917  —  "Labor  Day" 

IT'S  rather  late  in  the  season  to  begin  cubbing,  but  such  is 
the  effect  of  war  economies,  etc.,  on  a  hunting  establish- 
ment. 

It  was  an  ideal  morning  to  be  after  the  cubs,  just  the 
right  snap  to  the  air  at  five-thirty,  when  hounds  left  the 
kennel,  Will  Leverton  bringing  out  a  mixed  pack  of  seven- 
teen couples,  including  the  seven  couples  of  young  entry, 
and  I  never  saw  the  Radnor  pack  in  better  shape.  No  one 
else  appeared  at  the  meet,  and  I  must  confess  I  was  pretty 
lonely  and  sad  as  I  rode  up  the  Creek  Road  back  of  hounds. 
However,  on  reaching  the  Godfrey  Road  we  picked  up 
Bob  Montgomery  and  his  daughter,  Miss  Hope,  and  at 
Tryon  Lewis's  Mill  met  Harry  Harrison  and  his  nephew, 
Charlie,  age  ten. 

Hounds  found  at  once  in  Yarnall's  Hollow,  and,  after 
making  a  couple  of  circles  around  the  Hollow,  went  away 
in  beautiful  style.  The  young  .entry  settled  to  their  work 
like  veterans,  and,  on  crossing  the  Calvert  Farm,  we  had  a 
splendid  view  of  a  fine  big  cub  racing  over  the  meadow 
with  the  pack  right  on  his  brush,  but  a  friendly  cornfield 
saved  him. 

Young  Charlie  Harrison  was  apparently  greatly  disap- 
pointed when  he  viewed  this  fox.  What  sort  of  an  animal  he 
expected  to  see  we  could  n't  get  from  him,  but,  evidently, 
something  about  the  size  of  a  calf,  from  the  way  he  spoke. 

Quoting  Mr.  Dale,  of  the  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News: 
"It's  not  only  the  young  who  are  surprised  at  the  size  of 
a  fox.  Ask  any  novice  who  sees  a  fox  break  covert  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  to  compare  it  in  weight  to  some  well- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  109 

known  kind  of  dog,  and  the  answer  will  be  amazingly  out 
of  the  truth.  The  average  dog  fox  does  not  weigh  sixteen 
pounds.  Instead  of  comparing  it  with  a  smaller  fox  terrier 
of  about  sixteen  to  eighteen  pounds,  the  comparison  will 
much  more  often  be  to  short-legged  dogs  of  thirty  to  sixty 
pounds.  I  suppose  that  is  because  the  outstanding  fur  of  the 
fox  stands  for  a  good  deal,  and  his  brush  for  much  more. 
But  in  either  case  he  is  a  triumph  of  nature,  and  no  dog 
that  was  ever  bred  of  his  weight  can  run  with  him,  fight 
with  him,  and,  also,  go  to  ground  with  him.  Besides,  it 
takes  a  pack  of  hounds  of  probably  fifteen  couples,  each 
hound  four  times  his  own  weight,  to  get  on  even  terms 
with  him,  although  they  have  all  the  assistance  of  the 
huntsman,  the  whippers-in,  and  the  field,  besides  the 
heartfelt  shouts  and  view  signals  of  all  the  farmers  for 
miles  round.  Every  hand  and  every  voice  before  and  be- 
hind is  the  enemy  of  the  fox.  All  owe  him  a  grudge  of  some 
kind.  To  the  Master  he  is  a  good  sporting  friend  who  has 
always  won  the  rubber  up  to  now,  and  he  must  be  paid  for 
that;  to  the  huntsman  he  is  a  beast  that  has  done  his  ut- 
most to  spoil  a  reputation,  and  he  must  be  paid  for  that.  To 
the  field  he  is  either  a  bold  fox  that  must  be  killed  to  grat- 
ify hounds,  or  a  coward  that  must  be  eaten  for  the  sake  of 
his  own  species." 

Cubbing  continued  with  fair  scent  right  along  for  several 
weeks,  while  "Governor,"  one  of  the  young  entry,  distin- 
guished himself  on  several  occasions.  On  Tuesday,  2jrd 
October,  after  meeting  at  the  kennels  at  seven  o'clock  with 
quite  a  field  out,  composed  of  the  Master,  Mr.  Bodine;  Mrs. 
Charlie  Munn;  Mrs.  Frazier  Harrison;  Mrs.  Valentine; 
Ned  and  Miss  Dougherty;  Miss  Barclay;  Miss  Bailey,  of 
Ardmore;  Lem  Altemus;  Rowland  Comly;  Captain  Barclay 
McFadden;  Miss  Alex  Dolan;  Nelson  Buckley  and  David 


i io  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

S.  B.  Chew,  hounds  found  a  fox  in  the  wood  back  of  Louis 
Meimbresse's  quarry,  and,  carrying  the  line  over  the  hill 
into  Mrs.  Clyde's,  swung  right-handed  and  raced  down- 
country  through  the  Fox  Hill  Farm  to  the  Chimney  Cor- 
ner, where  it  looked  as  if  a  fresh  fox  went  away  in  front  of 
hounds.  Having  dwelt  at  the  Corner  a  moment,  hounds 
ran  on  at  a  great  pace  across  the  Stuart  Wood  property  to 
the  Darby  Creek,  then  on  to  the  golf  course,  where  they 
turned  left-handed,  and,  coming  back  through  Brook- 
thorpe,  crossed  the  Highland  Farm  into  Drexel's.  Sup- 
posing our  fox  would  go  to  ground  under  the  swimming- 
pool,  we  were  surprised  to  see  hounds  turn  and  make  an- 
other loop  to  the  creek;  crossing  the  golf  course  again  and 
coming  back  to  Wootten,  hounds  made  the  same  circuit 
the  third  time,  finally  marking  their  fox  to  ground  at  the 
Chimney  Corner,  after  an  hour  and  ten  minutes  of  very 
nice  work. 

Meeting  at  White  Horse  on  Saturday,  ijth  October, 
hounds  gave  us  an  exceptionally  good  morning  after  two 
very  stout  cubs;  and,  as  the  day  was  warm  and  sultry, 
horses  and  hounds  had  all  they  wanted,  as  also  did  Mrs. 
John  Valentine,  for  she  appeared  at  the  meet  in  a  heavy 
winter  habit,  and,  before  the  run  was  half  over,  was  com- 
plaining bitterly.  But  she  was  not  the  only  one  out  of  luck, 
for  Fred  and  Mrs.  Sturges,  having  come  over  from  New 
York  to  look  over  their  stud  at  Dave  Sharp's,  and  inciden- 
tally have  a  morning's  cubbing,  ran  out  of  gasoline  half- 
way to  the  meet,  so  missed  the  run. 

Hounds  found  their  first  fox  in  Fairy  Hill,  George  Heat- 
ley  viewing  him  out  the  top  side  of  covert,  with  the  pack 
giving  him  a  run  for  his  money,  and,  keeping  Sugartown  on 
their  left,  came  down  to  the  Evans  meadow,  on  to  Cath- 
cart's  Rocks,  where  they  gave  every  one,  excepting  Will 


1  [I 

Leverton,  the  slip,  and,  turning  sharp  back,  ran  to  Waynes- 
boro  and  through  to  Nawbeck,  where  scent  failed  entirely. 

Most  of  the  field,  deciding  they  had  lost  enough  weight 
for  one  day,  left  from  here;  but  on  coming  down-country 
hounds  pushed  another  cub  out  of  Rowland  Comly's  wood, 
and  after  a  very  smart  run  of  fifteen  minutes  marked  him 
to  earth  in  Battles's  (Brooks's)  wood. 

Among  the  field  were  the  Master;  Mrs.  Snowden,  beau- 
tifully mounted  and  riding  her  own  line  as  usual;  Isaac 
Clothier,  Jr.;  Ned  and  Miss  Dougherty;  Eddie  Dale;  Nel- 
son Buckley;  Lowber  and  John  Stokes;  Lem  Altemus;  Miss 
Eugenia  Cassatt;  and  Arthur  Dickson. 

1st  November,  1917 

IT  was  sad  to-day  at  Newtown  Square;  even  the  old  inn 
did  n't  somehow  look  the  same.  There  were  very  few 
smiling  farmer  friends  to  greet  the  hounds,  besides  only  a 
field  of  seven  for  an  opening  meet  at  Radnor.  A  couple  of 
years  ago  one  would  have  said  such  a  thing  impossible. 
No  breakfast  for  the  opening  meet  at  Happy  Creek;  no 
pink  coats,  not  even  for  the  hunt  servants;  but  the  great 
point  is  to  keep  the  sport  going,  and  that  can  only  be  done 
by  science,  enthusiasm,  and  perseverance,  with  greatly 
reduced  funds. 

Hunting  has  never  been  exclusively  a  rich  man's  game, 
which  is  one  of  its  blessings.  A  good  foxhound  is  enough 
to  make  a  cry,  and  a  horse  that  can  gallop  and  stay  is  all 
we  need,  so  those  of  us  who  are  still  at  home  must  carry 
on,  even  if  things  are  not  quite  as  we  would  like  them. 

Even  most  of  the  ladies  deserted  hounds  to-day. 

Yarnall's  Hollow  was  drawn  blank;  but  on  working  up 
the  creek  through  Mr.  John  Brown's  wood,  "Doctor" 
spoke  to  a  line  and  the  rest  of  the  pack,  taking  it  up, 


ii2  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

worked  it  out  through  the  Old  Mill  property  to  the 
meadows  opposite  Happy  Creek,  where  scent  improved, 
and,  running  with  a  good  cry  to  Dr.  Bartholomew's, 
turned  back  and  took  us  at  a  good  clip  to  Yarnall's 
Hollow,  then  back  again  and,  with  a  good  gallop  over  Mr. 
Brown's  lovely  fields,  hounds  ran  to  Harrison's  gateway, 
turned,  and,  taking  us  back  over  Brown's  and  into  Yarnall's 
Hollow  once  more,  were  taken  home  when  they  checked  a 
moment  in  the  wood. 

The  field  of  seven  included:  The  Master;  Walter  Roach, 
of  Rose  Tree,  who  seemed  to  thoroughly  enjoy  himself; 
Ned  Dougherty;  Miss  Austin;  Ned  Blabon;  and  Fred 
Phillips. 

Saturday,  loth  November,  1917 

SCENT  was  so  poor  to-day  that  hounds  could  do  nothing. 
Fox  after  fox  was  viewed  away  right  in  front  of  them  and 
they  could  n't  own  the  line  at  all. 

Rose  Tree  found  the  same  conditions,  and  I  hear  that 
at  White  Marsh  their  hounds  could  not  even  run  the 
drag. 

Saturday,  24th  November,  1917 
Cheshire  Hounds,  Cheshire  Inn,  nine  o'clock 

CAPT.  PLUNKET  STEWART,  having  returned  from  his  re- 
mount duties  in  the  West  for  a  few  days,  kindly  asked  me- 
to  have  a  day  with  him  and  his  most  excellent  hounds;  so 
on  Friday  afternoon  we  motored  up-country,  stopping  at 
Howard  Henry's  farm  at  Wawasset  for  dinner,  where, 
with  Mrs.  Henry,  Mrs.  Devereux,  Mrs.  Valentine,  Mrs. 
Mather,  and  Mrs.  Frazier  Harrison,  we  spent  a  most  en- 
joyable evening,  motoring  on  to  the  Cheshire  Inn  to  pass 
the  night. 
The  morning  was  beautiful,  with  just  a  nice  snap  to  the 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  113 

air,  when  hounds  met  at  the  inn  at  nine  o'clock.  The 
ladies  arrived  on  time,  so  we  were  off  quite  promptly. 
Mr.  Kerr  motored  up  from  Trainer  to  hunt  with  us,  and 
Penn  Smith  came  on  the  train  to  West  Chester,  trolleying 
to  Unionville  from  there.  C.  C.  Newlin  and  Mr.  Cham- 
bers were  also  out. 

The  first  draw  was  Webb's  Wood,  which  was  blank, 
hounds  working  back  through  the  Chesterland  Farm,  the 
Logan  Farm,  and  on  to  Cox's  Wood,  when  we  saw  Penn 
Smith  on  a  hilltop  waving  his  arms.  Hounds  picked  up 
the  line  at  once  in  the  wood,  and  carrying  it  out  across  the 
meadow  and  over  the  road  where  Penn  was,  and,  on 
galloping  up  to  him,  he  said  two  foxes  had  gone  away. 
Hounds  settled  to  the  line  of  one  of  them  beautifully,  and 
here  we  had  a  nice  bit  of  jumping  in  and  out  of  the  road, 
Penn  enjoying  it  immensely!  Scent  was  a  bit  catchy  for 
a  few  minutes,  but  hounds  ran  fast  enough  to  keep  us 
galloping  right  along  over  the  grass.  It  was  all  grass,  and 
over  a  beautiful  line  of  country  for  fifty  minutes,  when 
hounds  marked  their  fox  to  ground  along  the  railroad  cut 
in  the  Glen  Hall  Barrens,  much  to  every  one's  satisfac- 
tion. Our  horses  had  gone  splendidly,  every  one  was  well 
up  alongside  of  hounds  all  the  time,  so  everybody  was  in 
the  best  of  spirits. 

Mrs.  Devereux  was  riding  her  grey  "Happy  Boots"; 
Plunket  on  "High  Brow";  Mrs.  Valentine  on  "Quah"; 
and  I,  a  green  chestnut  mare  whose  name  I  cannot  remem- 
ber, that  Mr.  Kerr  lent  me,  but  who  carried  me  very  well 
through  this  run. 

Hounds  soon  found  a  second  very  stout  fox  in  Pass- 
more's  wood  that  went  away  like  the  proverbial  "bat  out 
of  hell,"  with  the  pack,  as  Plunket  afterwards  said, 
"Roaring  like  bulls."  It  was  about  the  fastest  thing  on 


n4  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

record,  every  one  racing  at  top  speed,  when  the  chestnut 
I  was  riding  began  to  tire  a  bit,  and,  in  jumping  out  of  a 
farmyard,  put  me  down,  fortunately  on  a  nice  bit  of  soft 
turf;  but  by  the  time  I  was  up  and  on  again,  hounds  were 
out  of  sight,  but  not  out  of  hearing.  I  had  a  long  stern 
chase,  and  finally  came  even  with  hounds  in  the  Laurels, 
having  missed  about  fifteen  minutes  of  the  best  of  it. 
Hounds  pushed  their  fox  on  out  of  the  Laurels  and  on 
over  the  hilltop  where  scent  began  to  fail,  and  finally  van- 
ished entirely  at  the  Burnt  Chimney,  thirty-five  minutes 
from  the  find. 

Harry  Brown's  horse  was  entirely  gone,  so  Mr.  Kerr 
changed  with  him.  Mine  was  cooked  a  good  while  before, 
but  still  able  to  plod  along;  in  fact,  every  one  had  a  plenty, 
so  hounds  were  taken  home. 

Sunday,  25th  November,  1917 

To  lose  old  friends  is  always  sad;  whether  they  be  hu- 
man friends,  dog  friends,  or  horse  friends;  and  sometimes 
the  loss  of  one's  four-footed  friends  is  much  harder  to 
bear  than  the  loss  of  one's  "fair-weather"  human  friends. 
The  four-footed  fellows  are,  thank  God,  seldom  of  the 
"fair-weather"  variety. 

All  the  hunting  community  were  grieved  this  after- 
noon to  learn  that  Isaac  H.  Clothier,  Jr.,  had  lost  five  of 
his  best  hunters  when  his  stable  at  Radnor  burned. 
"Miss  Canada,"  "Ichabod,"  "Ingomar,"  "Colonel  Liv- 
ingston," and  "Virginia  Boy,"  were  burned  in  their  stalls. 
One  of  his  old  favorites,/' Judge,"  was  fortunately  saved. 

Thursday,  zgth  November,  1917  —  "  Thanksgiving  Day" 
IT  was  a  very  different  sort  of  Thanksgiving  Day  at 
Radnor  this  year  from  those  of  the  past.    We  had  no 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  115 

breakfast  for  the  farmers,  nor  horse  show  nor  races,  and, 
owing  to  the  war  economies,  hounds  even  were  not  sched- 
uled to  go  out;  but,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  Mrs.  Bob 
Strawbridge,  the  governors  decided  to  let  hounds  go  out 
in  order  to  give  the  officers,  who  were  home  from  Camp 
Meade  for  the  day,  a  bit  of  sport. 

Major  Francis  V.  Lloyd,  I  mounted  on  "Tommy"; 
Nelson  Buckley  lent  "Duster"  to  Lieutenant  George 
Brooke;  Miss  Alexandra  Dolan  mounted  Lieutenant  Bill 
Corcoran  on  "Sloe  Gin";  the  Cassatts  gave  Lieutenant 
Clifton  Lisle  a  horse;  Lieutenant  Bobby  Strawbridge  was 
on  his  father's  "Radnor";  Lieutenant  Harry  Barclay  on 
Miss  Barclay's  "Sandy";  Captain  Clarence  H.  Clark  III 
and  Lieutenant  Gurnee  Munn  were  also  among  the  offi- 
cers out. 

There  was  quite  a  bit  of  snow  on  the  ground,  but  the 
going  was  fairly  good,  and  fortunately  we  found  a  fox  in 
Yarnall's  Hollow.  He  went  out  the  upper  side  of  the 
covert,  over  the  hill  and  on  across  the  Wyola  Road  into 
the  farm  "Pick"  Harrison  used  to  have.  Hounds  checked 
here  a  moment,  ran  into  the  wood,  and,  turning  left- 
handed,  crossed  the  brook,  then  on  at  a  nice  galloping 
pace  over  the  Newtown  Road,  into  the  field  opposite  the 
Harrison  Meadows,  then  out  to  Hector  NcNeal's  on  the 
Paoli  Road,  where  they  turned  down-country  again  and 
crossed  into  Happy  Creek  Farms  to  the  Old  Mill,  where 
we  had  a  good  view  of  our  fox,  a  rather  small  one.  Turn- 
ing again,  hounds  sank  the  vale  and  swung  up-country 
again,  practically  over  the  same  line  as  before,  then 
down-country  once  more  through  Mr.  John  Brown's  wood 
and  on  into  Yarnall's  Hollow,  where  he  must  have  gone 
to  ground  in  the  rocks,  but  hounds  did  not  mark  him 
under. 


n6  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

It  was  quite  a  nice  fifty-eight  minutes,  and  thoroughly 
enjoyed  by  all  the  officers,  as  it  was  their  first  and  proba- 
bly only  run  of  the  season. 

Mr.  Edward  Ilsley,  who  was  following  in  a  motor,  was 
waiting  along  the  Wyola  Road  opposite  Sen-ill's  track, 
watching  hounds.  As  they  came  over  the  hill  from  Yar- 
nall's  Hollow,  he  saw  the  hunted  fox  trying  to  put  hounds 
off  the  line  by  running  along  the  top  rail  of  a  post-and- 
rail  fence.  One  often  hears  of  a  fox  doing  a  trick  like  this, 
but  it's  very  seldom  that  one  sees  it.  At  any  rate,  it 
was  n't  successful  this  time,  for  hounds  carried  the  line 
straight  alongside  this  fence  and  on  through  the  wood. 

How  much  of  the  sagacity  of  the  fox  is  real  and  how 
much  is  the  supposed  repetition  of  fabulous  feats  and  their 
parallels,  one  never  quite  knows;  and,  as  Mr.  Dale  says  in 
the  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News,  I  have  recently  seen 
records  of  the  doings  of  foxes  that  are  supposed  to  have 
been  done  by  design  to  save  their  lives  and  to  be  due  to 
reasoning  powers.  Thus  a  fox  is  seen  to  run  along  the  top 
of  a  wall  and  he  chances  to  escape.  Consequently,  he  is 
supposed  to  have  "run  the  wall"  in  order  to  escape;  that 
is,  in  order  to  put  hounds  off  the  scent.  It  has  never  struck 
me  as  a  feat  performed  for  any  such  object,  except  to  this 
extent,  that  any  turn  is  likely  to  put  hounds  off,  not  more 
so  if  it  is  a  turn  at  right  angles,  as  along  a  fence  after  an 
approach  to  it  over  the  open  of  a  field,  or  whether  that 
right-angle  turn  is  in  the  middle  of  a  field  or  on  the  fence. 
Foxhounds  are  bred  for  drive,  and  consequently  any 
right-angle  turn  is  as  likely,  and  no  more  likely,  to  make 
them  overrun  the  line  than  a  sudden  hide  in  a  furrow 
would  be.  But  there  may  not  be  a  furrow  to  hide  in.  There 
may  be  a  wall,  and,  if  hounds  approach  the  latter  and  smell 
fox  scent  on  top  of  it,  they  naturally  believe  it  comes  from 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  117 

the  other  side,  and  jump  the  wall,  and  press  on  in  the  di- 
rection opposite  that  they  came  from.  That  does  not 
appear  to  me  to  be  half  as  clever  as  the  method  of  the 
hare  which,  coursed  by  greyhounds,  shoots  through  a  muse 
in  the  wall  as  the  greyhounds  jump  it.  Then  the  hare  in- 
stantly pops  back  through  the  hole,  while  the  greyhounds, 
having  cleared  the  wall,  gaze  for  the  hare  exactly  in  the 
direction  she  pretended  to  be  going,  but  did  not  go.  Three 
parts  of  all  the  fancied  cleverness  of  hunted  animals 
arises  from  the  fact  that  they  can  become  scentless  some- 
times by  intention  and  sometimes  by  accident.  Of  all 
creatures  that  one  would  suppose  to  have  no  control  over 
their  scent,  the  hunted  deer  and  the  hunted  fox  are  appar- 
ently the  most  likely,  but  really  it  is  just  the  reverse.  A 
stag  is  run  with  a  good  scent.  Suddenly  he  disappears  and 
leaves  no  trace  of  a  scent.  He  has  probably  taken  couch 
somewhere,  and  a  total  absence  of  movement  serves  his 
turn  and  saves  his  life.  That  absolute  stillness  is  as  useful 
to  him  as  to  the  incubating  partridge;  but  what  happens  to 
the  scent  he  made  in  going  to  the  spot  he  chooses  for  the 
couch  of  a  hunted  deer?  He  did  not  fly  to  it. 

Among  the  rest  of  the  field  were:  Mrs.  Charlie  Munn; 
Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt;  Mrs.  Bob  Strawbridge;  S.  Laurence 
Bodine;  Ned  Blabon;  Rowland  Comly  and  his  son,  Lester; 
and  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt,  on  Gardner  Cassatt's 
"Greymaster,"  going  in  her  usual  faultless  style. 

6th  February,  1918 

NOT  since  the  winter  of  1818-1819,  ninety-nine  years  ago, 
has  there  been  such  a  continued  cold  spell  of  weather  and 
one  to  stop  hunting  for  so  many  weeks,  as  we  have  prac- 
tically been  stopped  since  December  8th. 
First  came  quite  a  fair-sized  snow  that  melted,  then 


n8  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

suddenly  froze  up  while  it  was  trying  to  run  off,  leaving 
the  ground  with  a  coating  of  ice  from  four  to  six  inches 
thick,  not  in  spots,  but  all  over  the  country.  Hunting,  of 
course,  was  out  of  the  question,  as  it  was  impossible  to 
ride  the  country,  or  for  hounds  to  get  about. 

After  a  fortnight  of  the  ice,  it  began  to  snow  every  few 
days  until  there  were  twenty-eight  inches  on  the  ground, 
with  the  mercury  down  to  10°  below  zero  on  two  occasions, 
and  on  Tuesday,  February  5th,  1918,  the  glass  at  the 
Racquet  Club  in  town  was  3°  below  zero  at  lunch-time, 
the  coldest  on  record  for  the  middle  of  the  day. 

There's  a  touch  of  spring  in  the  air  to-day,  with  rivers 
of  water  running  in  every  direction;  but  it  will  take  sev- 
eral days  of  good  warm  sunshine  to  make  it  fit  to  hunt. 

A  lineman,  digging  a  hole  for  a  telegraph  pole  in  Bryn 
Mawr,  told  me  the  other  day  there  were  forty-four  inches 
of  frost  in  the  ground,  so  when  that  begins  to  come  out, 
there  will  be  plenty  of  mud  and  soft  going  to  plow  through. 

Mrs.  Edward  H.  Carle,  of  Millbrook,  who  came  here 
for  the  hunting  at  the  close  of  the  Millbrook  Season,  and 
has  taken  Louis  Meimbresse's  cottage,  is  rather  out  of 
luck,  but  maybe  now  the  weather  is  breaking,  she  may  get 
a  run  for  her  money  after  all.  She  brought  along  a  very 
nice  string  of  horses;  but  like  all  the  others  in  the  country, 
they  have  been  eating  their  heads  off  of  late. 

Thursday,  i^th  February,  1918 

HAVING  been  snowed  up  for  so  long,  hounds  evidently 
decided  to  celebrate  to-day,  and  after  meeting  at  New- 
town  Square  at  one-thirty,  and  drawing  several  coverts 
blank,  they  settled  on  the  line  of  a  small  red  pig  belonging 
to  Dr.  Bartholomew.  With  a  marvellous  burst  of  music 
that  made  every  one  sit  up  and  take  notice,  they  raced 


MRS.  EDWARD  H.  CARLE,  ON  "GERMOND" 
1916 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  119 

away,  and  then  we  saw  Mr.  Pig  galloping  down  the  road 
just  ahead  of  hounds.  They  could  n't  be  stopped  in  time, 
and  the  pig  squeezing  under  a  fence  took  to  the  open 
country  with  the  pack  at  his  heels.  Owing  to  the  remains 
of  a  snowdrift,  the  fence  was  unjumpable,  and,  before  we 
could  get  to  them,  hounds  had  rolled  the  pig  over  and  were 
worrying  him  in  good  style,  with  Mr.  Pig  giving  volumes 
of  tongue. 

Mrs.  Carle's  servant,  Johnson,  and  I  finally  reached  the 
worry,  and,  after  much  rating,  succeeded  in  rescuing  the 
poor  porker,  who  turned  out  to  be  very  little  the  worse  for 
wear.  Barring  a  couple  of  tears,  his  tough  hide  was  whole, 
and  with  a  bit  of  petting  quite  regained  his  fat  equilibrium, 
after  which  we  put  him  in  the  Doctor's  barn  and  bedded 
him  down  with  clean  straw. 

Dave  Sharp,  having  gone  home  just  before  the  pig  epi- 
sode, heard  hounds,  and,  thinking  we  were  having  a  good 
run,  took  a  fresh  horse  and  came  boiling  down-country,  but 
did  n't  reach  the  scene  of  activities  in  time  to  get  a  hoof. 

However,  it  very  often  takes  something  a  little  out  of 
the  ordinary  to  change  one's  luck,  and,  on  working  down- 
country,  a  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  wood  opposite 
Happy  Creek.  Carrying  him  through  Waterloo  Mills, 
hounds  ran  over  Mr.  Brown's  beautiful  pasture  to 
Yarnall's  Hollow,  to  Mr.  Earle's,  over  the  Goshen  Road 
to  the  Hospital  Farm,  and  to  Bryn  Mawr  Avenue,  where 
they  turned  left-handed  into  the  Phillips  property,  and, 
as  it  was  getting  dark,  were  taken  home  when  they  checked 
a  moment  at  the  railroad. 

Mrs.  Walter  Roach,  of  Rose  Tree,  was  out  for  a  while, 
but  left  before  the  run;  the  others  were:  The  Master; 
Mrs.  Carle;  Miss  Barclay;  Ned  Blabon;  Nelson  Buckley; 
and  Dave  Sharp. 


120  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Saturday,  2nd  March,  1918 

IT  may  not  be  one  of  the  rules  of  the  game  to  deliberately 
put  one's  hounds  on  the  line  of  a  fox  that  another  pack  is 
running,  but,  at  any  rate,  it  gave  Radnor  a  long  run  to-day, 
and  apparently  caused  no  ill-feeling  with  the  other  fellow- 
me-lad. 

After  meeting  at  White  Horse  at  ten-thirty,  and  finding 
several  coverts  blank,  we  heard  and  saw  a  pack  of  hounds 
in  full  cry  just  crossing  the  State  Road  by  the  Rush  Hos- 
pital. The  Radnor  pack  was  lifted,  and,  galloping  to 
Hog  Lane,  met  the  West  Chester  hounds  as  they  entered 
the  swamp,  so,  joining  forces,  the  two  packs  ran  at  a 
good  pace  for  Malvern;  but,  keeping  the  village  on  their 
right,  fairly  flew  up-country,  and,  fortunately  for  us, 
quite  near  and  parallel  to  a  friendly  road,  as  the  country 
was  much  too  soft  for  horses  to  gallop  in  for  any  length  of 
time.  After  ten  minutes  hounds  checked  in  a  very  pretty 
farmyard,  but  Will  Leverton  had  them  going  again  before 
any  one  had  time  to  get  the  mud  out  of  his  eyes;  and, 
pushing  through  the  Hershey  Mill  Wood,  turned  left- 
handed  over  the  Sullivan  Farm  to  Shell  bark  Hollow, 
where  hounds  dwelt  a  moment,  much  to  our  horses'  re- 
lief. But  on  working  it  out  of  the  Hollow,  they  raced  away 
down-country  to  the  Keen  Farm,  and,  keeping  the  farm 
buildings  on  their  right,  took  us  back  to  Hershey's  Mill; 
then,  crossing  the  millpond  on  the  ice,  hounds  went  over 
the  King  Road,  into  the  Brown  Farm;  then,  bearing 
southward  through  the  woodlands,  ran  to  the  middle  of 
Hoopes  Brothers  and  Thomas's  Nurseries,  where,  as 
always  happens,  hounds  were  put  to  their  noses  and 
finally  came  to  a  complete  check.  William  Brice,  the  West 
Chester  huntsman,  found  the  fox's  track  in  the  mud,  and, 
capping  hounds  on,  they  carried  it  slowly  to  the  lower  side 
of  the  nursery  where  scent  failed  completely. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  121 

Having  been  galloping  two  hours  and  thirty-five  min- 
utes, it  was  decided  to  separate  the  two  packs  and  go 
home;  but  home  was  a  long  way  off. 

Among  the  West  Chester  field  were:  Dick  and  Mrs. 
Murtagh;  "Moan"  Worth;  and  Wycoff  Smith,  of  the 
Whiteland's  Hunt;  and  a  lot  of  hard-riding  farmers;  also, 
a  very  small  boy  in  a  faded  Wild- West  costume,  who  rode 
a  shaggy,  short-legged  pony  that  went  like  the  proverbial 
"bat  out  of  hell";  and  a  most  amusing  man,  whom  I  had 
a  great  feeling  for,  because,  when  he  came  to  a  fence,  no 
matter  how  small,  he  would  gallop  full  tilt  up  to  it,  throw 
himself  off,  climb  over  with  his  crock  of  a  horse  following 
him,  take  a  flying  leap  into  the  saddle,  and  be  on  his  way 
with  practically  no  loss  of  time.  He  was  a  wonder. 

Among  the  Radnor  field  were:  Mr.  Bodine;  Mrs. 
Carle;  Ned  Blabon;  Miss  Dougherty;  Dave  and  Mrs. 
Sharp;  Mrs.  Snowden,  going  superbly,  as  is  her  way; 
Randy  Snowden;  Miss  Barclay;  Buck  and  Gerry  and 
Mrs.  Leiper;  and  Ben  Holland. 

Saturday,  gth  March,  1918 

HAVING  met  at  Sugartown  and  drawn  the  country  blank 
up  to  Shellbark  Hollow,  we  heard  hounds  apparently  go- 
ing away  from  the  upper  side  of  the  swamp. 

Shellbark  is  a  mean  covert  to  get  through,  and,  if  they 
were  really  going  out  the  far  side,  it  meant  a  long  gallop 
around  to  get  to  them,  so  some  of  us,  including  the  Master, 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Devereux,  Mrs.  Sharp,  Mr.  Blodget,  of 
New  York,  and  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt,  made  a  try  for 
it,  and,  on  reaching  the  stony  hilltop  where  we  expected  to 
get  on  terms  with  our  hounds,  we  heard  hounds  on  our 
left,  which  we  knew  could  not  be  Radnor.  Presently  a 
splendid  big  fox  broke  from  a  wood  and  came  galloping 


122  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

along  towards  us  across  the  valley.  He  ran  under  several 
post  and  rail  fences,  but,  on  coming  to  a  big  worm  fence, 
stood  well  off  and  took  it  in  his  stride  like  a  greyhound,  and 
in  most  beautiful  style. 

The  other  pack  turned  out  to  be  the  Chester  Valley, 
William  C.  Wilson,  M.F.H.,  and,  carrying  the  line  on  into 
Shellbark  Hollow,  ran  to  Hershey's  Mill,  where  Mrs. 
Sharp  viewed  the  fox  going  back  up  country.  Radnor 
hounds  had  by  now  harked  to  the  Chester  Valley;  but,  as 
it  commenced  to  rain  and  sleet  and  blow,  hounds  were  first 
brought  to  their  noses  and  then  to  a  full  stop,  and,  when 
the  combined  arts  of  the  two  huntsmen  failed  to  produce 
results,  we  started  a  long,  long  hack  home. 

But  misery  loves  company,  and  company  makes  a  long 
ride  seem  short. 


"THE  BOOT  HUNT  AND  A  LEMON  PIE" 

Monday,  i8th  March,  1918 

AT  the  invitation  of  Mr.  R.  J.  Barry,  of  West  Chester, 
I  journeyed  to  the  Boot,  this  beautiful  spring  morning, 
taking  Mrs.  Eddie  Carle  with  me;  our  horses  having  gone 
on  much  earlier,  as  it's  a  long  hack  from  here,  seventeen 
miles  at  least,  and  really  too  far  to  send  a  horse  for  a  day's 
hunting. 

We  met  our  horses  at  Goshen  School,  jogged  on  to  the 
Boot,  reaching  there  just  at  ten  o'clock,  and,  instead  of 
finding  hounds  about  ready  to  start,  found  the  break- 
fast just  commencing,  the  hospitable  host,  "Barry  of  the 
Boot,"  insisting  upon  our  going  into  the  house  and  eating. 
We  did  n't  feel  much  like  eating,  but  had  to  make  a  try  at 
it.  So,  on  going  through  the  kitchen,  saw  a  table  piled  up 
with  pies  of  all  kinds,  and  one  kind  in  particular  that  es- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  123 

pecially  appealed  to  us,  lemon  custard  meringue.  Mrs. 
Carle  and  I  ate  a  whole  pie  between  us,  and  it  was  n't  a 
small  one  either,  and  thereby  hangs  the  tale. 

After  finishing  off  the  lemon  custard,  standing  around, 
smoking  and  talking,  the  fox  was  finally  auctioned  off  by 
the  local  auctioneer,  and  over  $275  realized  for  the  Red 
Cross. 

Then,  after  a  few  more  delays,  etc.,  the  fox  was  taken 
across  the  road  and  dropped.  He  was  a  good  strong  fellow 
and,  pointing  his  mask  towards  West  Chester,  disappeared 
over  the  hill,  evidently  making  for  his  home  earth,  on  the 
McFadden  Farm  along  the  Brandywine.  An  old  white 
bitch  was  put  on  the  line  in  a  few  minutes  to  keep  the  fox 
moving,  the  bitch  going  off  in  grand  style  with  much 
tongue,  and  followed  by  about  twenty  of  the  impatient 
field,  who  by  their  impatience  spoiled  a  good  run  for  the 
rest  of  us. 

After  ten  minutes  more,  the  barn  doors  were  thrown  open 
and  out  poured,  three  deep,  the  greatest  collection  of  hounds 
I  ever  expect  to  see,  sixty-two  and  one-half  couples,  of  all 
shapes,  sizes,  and  kinds,  from  all  the  neighboring  packs, 
namely:  Boot  Hunt,  Hickman  Hunt,  Stewarts,  Sam  Kirk's 
West  Chester,  Whitelands,  and  Button's  hounds.  When 
they  picked  up  the  line,  and  even  before,  they  let  out  a 
roar  that  could  have  been  heard  ten  miles  across  country; 
every  "dog"  was  "doing  his  bit"  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 
They  fairly  flew  up  over  the  hill,  followed,  and  preceded 
and  flanked  by  a  yelling  mob  of  horsemen,  that  left  in 
their  wake  a  stream  of  broken  girths,  stirrup-leathers, 
and  sprawling  farmers.  I  galloped  by  three,  biting  Mother 
Earth,  in  the  space  of  one  field.  The  fields  were  a  bit  soft, 
but  good  falling,  and  the  going  rather  deep;  also  a  trifle 
crowded  was  the  one  gap  in  the  first  fence! 


124  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Things  went  quite  merrily  for  say  ten  minutes  to  a  check 
in  Hoopes  Brothers  and  Thomas's  Nurseries,  or  until  the 
body  of  the  pack  caught  up  to  the  white  bitch  that  was  do- 
ing her  best  to  hurry  Reynard  along. 

Enter  the  lemon  custard  meringue  pie  on  the  scene 
again ! 

During  the  check,  Mrs.  Carle's  servant,  Johnson,  came  up 
to  me  saying:  "The  Madame  is  feeling  sick,  and  thinks  she 
will  go  home,  Sir."  I  trotted  out  to  the  road  and  found  her 
looking  a  bit  done.  All  she  would  say  was :  "  Oh,  the  lemon 
pie,  I  must  go  home";  and  I  might  add  that  one  half  of  a 
perfectly  good  lemon  pie  did  n't  get  much  farther  down  the 
road !  It  spoiled  her  day,  but  gave  the  rest  of  us  a  lot  of  fun. 

The  truth  of  the  old  saying,  "Too  many  cooks  spoil  the 
broth,"  was  very  plainly  brought  home  to  us  from  then  on, 
for  hounds  never  really  settled  on  the  line  again,  and,  after 
picking  it  up  every  now  and  then  for  a  few  yards,  were 
taken  into  the  P.  M.  Sharpless  estate,  where  rabbits  being 
plentiful,  hounds  proceeded  to  enjoy  themselves  as  they 
thought  best,  three  rabbits  being  on  foot  at  one  time,  the 
hounds  obligingly  divided  into  three  packs,  and  any  fox- 
hunter  who  may  read  these  humble  lines  can  imagine  the 
result. 

I  hacked  back  to  Goshenville,  met  my  motor,  and  came 
home,  while  my  poor  horse,  Tommy,  did  n't  get  in  until 
six  o'clock,  having  had  about  ten  and  one-half  hours. 

Among  those  at  the  meet  were:  Mrs.  "Dick"  Murtagh; 
Wycoff  Smith;  Emanuel  Hey;  Patrick  Corcoran;  Francis 
Jacobs;  William  Brice;  M.  B.  Worth;  "Dick"  Newlin; 
Mrs.  Patterson;  Colonel  James  McComb;  R.  J.  and  Mrs. 
Barry;  Dr.  Oat,  of  West  Chester;  Dr.  Evans,  of  Malvern; 
and  many  good  farmer  friends  that  I  knew,  but  do  not 
know  their  names. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  125 

Saturday,  yd  April,  1918 

THE  Huntingdon  Valley  Hunt  made  a  brave  effort  to-day 
to  have  a  spring  meeting,  and  under  most  adverse  condi- 
tions; owing  to  the  war,  and  the  softest  going  imaginable, 
had  only  three  horses  at  the  post  in  the  two  principal 
events. 

Captain  W.  Plunket  Stewart's  brown  gelding,  "Mar- 
cellinus,"  by  "D'Arenburg,"  beautifully  ridden  by  Eddie 
Cheston,  won  the  Huntingdon  Valley  Plate  in  a  sea  of  mud, 
from  "  Riverbreeze  "  and  "Gigantoi,"  and  in  the  Meadow- 
brook  Plate  the  going  was  so  deep  that  the  stewards  de- 
cided to  shorten  the  race  from  three  miles  to  one  and 
a  half.  Huntingdon  Valley  Farms'  "Whirlwind,"  with 
C.  Darlington  up,  won  from  Welsh  Strawbridge's  "Lake- 
wood."  Nelson  Buckley's  "Blue  Mischief,"  with  Eddie 
Cheston  riding,  pulled  up  and  did  not  finish. 

"MARYLAND  HUNT  CUP" 

27th  April,  1918 

A  LITTLE  sporting  tour  away  from  home  is  always  most 
enjoyable,  and  especially  so  when  the  horse  one  is  backing 
wins;  and  the  consensus  of  opinion  was  that  there  was 
never  a  more  popular  win  of  the  Maryland  Hunt  Cup  than 
to-day,  when  Captain  W.  Plunket  Stewart's  "Marcell- 
inus,"  with  Eddie  Cheston  up,  galloped  home  in  front  of  a 
field  of  nine.  It  is  an  interesting  coincidence  that  during 
the  Spanish  War,  just  twenty  years  ago,  and  when  Plun- 
ket Stewart  was  also  in  uniform,  his  horse  "The  Squire" 
won  this  same  classic. 

Although  the  field  to-day  was  not  as  large  as  in  the  pip- 
ing times  of  peace,  it  quite  made  up  in  quality  what  it 
lacked  in  quantity.  Mr.  Heiser  gave  his  delightful  an- 


126  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

nual  luncheon  previous  to  the  race,  and  on  his  broad  lawns 
overlooking  the  course  were  groups  of  officers  representing 
all  the  Allied  Powers  in  the  Great  War,  official  Washing- 
ton having  turned  out  in  force. 

Benjamin  H.  Brewster,  Jr.'s,  "  Chuckatuck,"  who 
finished  second  to  "  Brosseau  "  last  year,  was  backed  by  a 
good  many  to  win,  but  was  not  able  to  do  the  trick  and 
finished  second  again,  with  "Hollander"  third,  who  fell 
early  in  the  game,  as  did  five  others,  including  Mrs.  Pearce's 
"Mabo,"  with  Welsh  Strawbridge  up. 


SEASON  OF  1918-1919 


SEASON  OF  1918-1919 

THE  second  season  of  war-time  hunting  naturally  found 
Radnor  better  able  to  see  its  way  more  clearly  than  at  first. 
The  War  Master  had  settled  the  question  of  "  carrying  on," 
and  did  "carry  on"  in  a  most  excellent  and  business-like 
manner.  He  adjusted  his  methods  to  his  means  and  pre- 
served not  only  the  outward  appearance  of  the  sport,  but 
also  the  fine  spirit  and  traditions  of  the  Radnor  kennels. 

At  the  close  of  the  previous  season,  Will  Leverton  had 
entered  the  Service,  and  Mr.  Bodine  was  fortunate  in  get- 
ting Radnor's  ex-huntsman,  Will  Davis,  for  the  duration 
of  the  war;  but  he  was  much  more  fortunate  in  having 
that  most  popular  and  splendid  horsewoman,  Miss  Ellen 
Mary  Cassatt,  as  whipper-in  for  a  large  part  of  the  time. 

Sport  was  quite  good  the  season  through,  I'm  told,  so 
much  so,  in  fact,  that  at  its  close  the  Master  was  given  a 
complimentary  dinner  in  recognition  of  the  sport  he  had 
shown,  and  an  effort  made  to  persuade  him  to  retain  the 
Mastership  another  year. 

A  good  many  of  us  happened  to  have  done  our  bit  for 
our  country  with  the  Remount  Branch  of  the  Army,  and 
to  all  of  them  I  am  sure  the  following  poem  by  W.  J. 
Ogilvie,  which  appeared  in  "The  Horse  and  the  War," 
will  recall  many  interesting  moments: 

THE  REMOUNT  TRAIN 

Every  head  across  the  bar, 
Every  blaze  and  snip  and  star, 
Every  nervous,  twitching  ear, 
Every  soft  eye  filled  with  fear, 


ijo  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Seeks  a  friend,  and  seems  to  say: 
"Whither  now,  and  where  away?" 
Seeks  a  friend  and  seems  to  ask: 
"Where  the  goal,  and  what  the  task?'* 

Wave  the  green  flag!  Let  them  go!  — 
Only  horses?  Yes,  I  know; 
But  my  heart  goes  down  the  line 
With  them,  and  their  grief  is  mine!  — 
There  goes  honour,  there  goes  faith, 
Down  the  way  of  dule  and  death, 
Hidden  in  the  cloud  that  clings 
To  the  battle- wrath  of  kings! 

There  goes  timid  child-like  trust 
To  the  burden  and  the  dust! 
High-born  courage,  princely  grace 
To  the  peril  it  must  face! 
There  go  stoutness,  strength  and  speed 
To  be  spent  where  none  shall  heed, 
And  great  hearts  to  face  their  fate 
In  the  clash  of  human  hate! 

Wave  the  flag,  and  let  them  go! 
Hats  off  to  that  wistful  row 
Of  lean  heads  of  brown  and  bay 
Black  and  chestnut,  roan  and  grey! 
Here's  good  luck  in  lands  afar  — 
Snow-white  streak,  and  blaze,  and  star! 
May  you  find  in  those  far  lands 
Kindly  hearts  and  horsemen's  hands! 


SEASON  OF  1919-1920 


SEASON  OF  1919-1920 

1st  September,  1919 

SABRETACHE,  in  his  "Pictures  in  the  Fire"  in  The  Tafter, 
gives  a  very  true  description  of  one's  feelings  when  start- 
ing hunting  once  more  after  the  war. 

"There's  a  pal  or  two  missing  for  all  of  us,  is  n't  there? 
—  fellows  you  Ve  ridden  with  all  day,  told  your  latest 
yarns  to,  ragged  about  some  girl  you  think  they've  been 
keen  on,  then  hacked  home  long  miles  in  the  dark  with. 
Can't  you  see  that  long  wet  road  with  the  bare  trees  meet- 
ing over  the  top  of  it  and  a  faint  primrose  streak  the  only 
sign  of  the  day  that's  gone?  Can't  you  hear  old  John's  or 
old  Bill's  spurs  clinking  against  his  irons  as  he  sits  with  his 
feet  hanging  loose  out  of  the  stirrups  to  give  himself  a  bit 
of  a  rest?  Can't  you  see  the  picture  of  that  bald-faced 
chestnut  horse  he  was  riding,  with  the  plaited  mane  and  a 
long  bang  tail  ?  Can't  you  see  his  hat  all  bashed  in  where  he 
took  it  handsomely  over  that  gap,  mended  with  a  bit  of  a 
rail,  and  an  ell  of  a  ditch  beyond?  Can't  you  catch  the 
smell  of  the  dead  leaves  and  see  that  derelict  harrow  in  the 
corner  of  the  big  plough  ?  Don't  it  all  sort  of  come  back  and 
make  you  —  well,  just  make  you  —  main  unhappy  when 
you  know  you  '11  never  hack  back  from  another  day's  hunt 
with  dear  old  John  or  Bill?  Just  nothing  after  Festubert, 
and  the  last  man  who  saw  him  had  his  eyes  blown  out, 
and  did  n't  realize  it  quite  because  it  was  dark." 

Some  of  us  are  home  again,  and  how  easily  we  have 
slipped  back  into  all  our  old  pursuits  and  pleasures.  A  few 
of  us  have  been  even  more  closely  associated  with  our 
faithful  friend,  the  horse,  during  the  war,  than  in  previous 


134  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

peace-times;  and  even  though  familiarity  is  supposed  to 
breed  contempt,  I'll  wager  not  one  foxhunter  that  was  in 
the  service  has  anything  but  the  greatest  respect  and  ad- 
miration for  the  noble  beasts  that  carried  him  and  worked 
for  him  during  his  army  career. 

It's  quite  true,  most  of  them  were  not  hunters,  and  very 
few  of  them  could  have  been  made  into  hunters,  but  they 
gave  one  a  ride  whenever  one  asked,  and  never  groused 
about  it.  But  it  was  nice  to  come  back  and  get  on  your  own 
old  favorite  again,  was  n't  it?  —  even  if  he  did  have  a  big 
hay  belly,  after  having  been  at  grass  for  eighteen  months 
or  two  years,  and  grunted  and  groaned  when  you  first  tried 
him  in  canter?  Nothing  you  had  between  your  knees  in 
the  army  felt  quite  like  him,  did  it?  You  patted  his  neck  a 
good  half-dozen  times  that  first  ride,  and  probably,  if  you 
were  riding  alone,  talked  to  him  and  told  him  a  lot  of  things 
that  you  have  n't  even  told  your  wife  yet;  and  was  n't  the 
old  fellow  glad  to  have  you  on  his  back  again?  Of  course 
he  was.  He  knew  it  meant  hunting  again  for  him,  and 
where  is  the  horse,  hound,  or  man  who  is  n't  glad  to  get 
back  into  that  game  once  more? 

Although  cubbing  was  a  bit  late  in  starting,  and,  even  if 
there  was  no  young  entry  in  the  kennels  to  watch,  there 
was  that  same  thrill  and  excitement  this  morning  when 
hounds  went  out  for  the  first  time.  It  was  a  typical  cub- 
bing morning,  inky  black  and  raining  a  bit,  when  my  horse 
was  brought  to  the  door  at  five-thirty.  Then  in  a  minute 
it  poured  in  torrents  and  I  jogged  into  the  carriage  house 
and  waited  a  bit,  thereby  losing  several  valuable  min- 
utes, but  finally  arriving  at  the  Happy  Creek  barn  just 
as  hounds  were  moving  off. 

How  natural  it  all  seemed  again;  the  same  smiling  faces; 
the  same  hounds,  only  not  so  many  of  them,  and  mostly 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  135 

the  same  horses.  The  Master  on  a  bay;  Miss  Ellen  Mary 
Cassatt,  looking  more  boyish  than  ever,  on  "Tango"; 
Gardner  Cassatt  on  "Greymaster";  Will  Leverton  hunt- 
ing hounds  again  and  riding  Horace  Hare's  "Plainsman"; 
and  so  on. 

The  sixteen  and  a  half  couples  of  dogs  and  bitches  found 
immediately  and  opened  up  with  a  roar  that  must  have 
awakened  Harry  Harrison  or  at  least  made  him  dream  of 
hunting,  for  they  raced  around  his  big  cornfield  a  couple  of 
times  before  straightening  the  cub  away.  Then,  crossing 
the  meadow,  they  took  us  towards  the  far  hill,  where  the 
cub  was  no  doubt  turned  by  Mr.  Wain  and  Ned  Dougherty 
who  were  standing  watching  the  hunt.  Hounds  swung 
around  back  to  Harrison's,  then  out  left-handed  and  across 
Hector  McNeal's  to  the  Leopard  Road,  where  they  dwelt 
a  moment.  Casting  themselves,  they  came  back  at  a  good 
clip  to  the  old  mill  and  on  into  Yarnall's  Hollow,  when 
they  were  taken  in  owing  to  the  heat. 

Saturday,  i8lh  October,  1919 

OLD  SQUARE  quite  regained  its  pre-war  prestige  this  morn- 
ing, and  it  was  certainly  like  the  good  old  days  to  see  forty- 
eight  people  turn  out  at  seven-thirty  in  the  morning  for 
cubbing.  They  were  well  repaid  for  their  early  rising  by  a 
stout  cub  from  Brooks's  Wood  that  gave  a  fast  fifty  min- 
utes' gallop  before  going  under  in  his  home  earth. 

There  were  several  strangers  out,  including  F.  Ambrose 
Clarke;  Frank  Voss,  who  is  on  here  painting  a  portrait  of 
Henry  Collins's  "Jingo";  Miss  Emily  P.  Welsh,  of  White 
Marsh,  riding  Roddy  Wanamaker's  brown  mare;  and  Miss 
Gertrude  Conway. 

Most  of  us  met  again  in  the  afternoon  at  the  Hunting- 
don Valley  Races,  where  the  sport  was  only  fair.  Welsh 


136  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Strawbridge  won  the  Huntingdon  Valley  Cup  for  the  third 
time,  with  "  Riverbreeze,"  while  Strassburger's  "Wolfer- 
ton  II,"  who  was  looked  upon  by  some  of  the  talent  as  the 
winner,  ran  away  with  Gerry  Leiper  the  last  time  around, 
and  disappeared  down  a  lane. 

Monday,  2oth  October,  1919 

HOUNDS  ran  clean  away  from  every  one  this  morning,  so 
much  so,  in  fact,  that  there  was  no  one  with  them  at  all 
when  they  marked  their  fox  under  in  the  drain  under  the 
road  by  Louis  Meimbresse's  quarry. 

Tom  Dillon,  the  stud  groom  at  the  Club,  was  the  first 
one  there  and  he  was  on  foot.  The  fox  could  be  seen  in  the 
drain,  so  a  rock  was  put  at  one  end  and  a  kennel  boy  at  the 
other,  while  we  sent  back  to  the  kennels  for  a  terrier. 
"Rags,"  the  terrier,  was  put  in,  and,  much  to  our  surprise, 
came  out  the  other  end  with  no  sign  of  Reynard,  and  what 
became  of  him  no  one  ever  knew. 

The  field  came  up  by  degrees,  and,  just  as  we  were  all 
standing  around  the  drain  in  the  narrow  road,  a  man  came 
along  leading  a  cow.  The  cow  gave  Brose  Clarke's  horse  a 
punch  in  the  ribs  with  her  horns,  the  horse  jumped  and 
pulled  away  from  Brose's  servant,  kicked  up  at  the  cow, 
and  the  ill-matched  pair  galloped  through  the  crowd,  kick- 
ing at  each  other  and  causing  much  commotion. 

Saturday,  2$th  October,  1919 

AFTER  meeting  at  Old  Square  at  seven-thirty  with  scenting 
conditions  apparently  of  the  best,  hounds  could  do  prac- 
tically nothing  with  their  first  fox,  which  was  found  in 
Battles's  Wood  and  carried  with  much  difficulty  to  Innes's 
and  then  left-handed  to  Mr.  Battles's  lawn,  where  they 
gave  it  up. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  137 

Our  second  draw  was  Calvert's  Swamp,  where  another 
fox  was  viewed  away  down-country,  with  quite  a  holding 
scent,  hounds  carrying  him  on  into  Mr.  C.  C.  Harrison's 
meadows,  down  the  creek  to  the  wood  on  top  of  the  hill, 
then  right-handed  and  back  to  where  we  found.  Here  he 
was  viewed  again  by  Higgins,  and,  circling,  took  the  same 
line  as  before;  crossing  the  Newtown  Road  and,  pointing 
down-country,  took  us  to  Yarnall's  Hollow,  where  another 
fox  broke  ahead  of  hounds,  the  pack  splitting  and  four  and 
one-half  couples  going  on  the  line  of  the  fresh  fox.  The 
hunted  fox  then  turned  up  the  Hollow,  circling  back,  and 
was  finally  marked  to  ground  in  the  hillside  by  Mrs.  Mc- 
Govern's  little  house,  near  where  we  first  found  him. 

A  field  of  sixty-three  out;  quite  the  record  for  a  cubbing 
morning,  among  them  being:  Mr.  Bodine;  John  and  Mrs. 
Converse;  Miss  Emily  Welsh;  Miss  Betty  Trotter,  of 
White  Marsh;  Misses  Ellen  Mary  and  Eugenia  Cassatt; 
Ben  Chew;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  R.  Nelson  Buckley; 
Roddy  and  Tommy  Wanamaker;  Mr.  Beale;  Gurney 
Munn;  Mrs.  Howard  Henry;  A.  J.  A.  Devereux;  F.  Am- 
brose Clarke;  Thornton  Baker;  Dick  McMeely;  Bob  Mont- 
gomery; Isaac  Clothier,  and  his  little  daughter  on  a  pony 
that  ran  away;  Miss  Gertrude  Heckscher;  William  and 
Mrs.  du  Pont;  and  Lowber  and  Walter  Stokes. 

Saturday,  25th  October,  1919 

THE  Race  Committee  at  Rose  Tree,  composed  of  Charles 
A.  Dohan,  Emanuel  Hey,  M.  Roy  Jackson,  Walter  M. 
Jeffords,  M.F.H.,  and  George  W.  Orton,  are  very  much  to 
be  congratulated  on  their  meeting  of  Saturday,  which 
every  one  agreed  was  quite  the  best  ever  given  in  this  sec- 
tion of  the  country;  not  only  from  an  artistic  standpoint, 
but  from  a  racing  one  as  well.  Everything  was  beautifully 


138  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

done;  the  grounds  and  course  in  good  condition,  with 
the  fences  all  newly  whitewashed;  the  lawns  cut;  in 
fact  the  whole  place  was  turned  out  like  a  well-groomed 
horse. 

Sunday  papers  said  ten  thousand  people  were  there,  and 
I  don't  believe  they  were  far  out  of  the  way. 

The  race  for  the  President's  Cup  brought  fifteen  horses 
to  the  post;  an  exceptional  field,  not  only  in  numbers,  but 
quality;  and  when  one  considers  that  such  a  high-class 
horse  as  Mrs.  Jeffords's  "Dr.  Johnson"  (by  "Sir  John 
Johnson"  out  of  "Quack")  had  to  do  his  best  to  win,  it 
shows  that  the  racing  was  quite  up  to  the  standard  of  the 
Metropolitan  tracks. 

Mr.  Strassburger's  "Nonesuch"  ran  second,  and  Hunt- 
ingdon Valley  Farms'  "By  the  Stars,"  third. 

The  last  race  of  the  day,  the  Rose  Tree  Plate,  over  the 
post  and  rail  course,  brought  eight  horses  to  the  post. 

Welsh  Strawbridge's  "  Riverbreeze  "  did  not  start,  owing 
to  the  weights,  as  by  his  recent  winnings  he  would  have  had 
to  carry  one  hundred  and  eighty-two  pounds,  which  Welsh 
evidently  thought  too  much. 

Mr.  A.  F.  Hyde's  "Little  Joe,"  who  won  on  Wednesday, 
fell  early  in  the  game,  as  did  Mr.  Jacob  R.  Ridgway's 
"Dooly,"  with  the  owner  up. 

Gerry  Leiper  rode  and  won  on  Mr.  Strassburger's 
"Wolferton  II,"  while  Gilbert  Mather  was  second  on  Bill 
Clothier's  "Brosseau,"  and  Mrs.  G.  R.  D.  Schieffelin's 
"Ellistown  Boy,"  a  good  third,  with  Harry  Tucker  up. 

The  "Bookies"  were  out  in  force  and  actually  giving 
odds,  but,  sad  to  relate,  one  of  them  welshed  with  fourteen 
dollars  of  Miss  Helen  Dougherty's  money  during  the 
third  race. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  139 

Wednesday,  5th  November,  1919 

WHILE  taking  a  ride  this  morning,  I  met  hounds  coming 
through  the  covered  bridge  at  the  Foxcroft  Quarries,  so 
went  along  with  them,  and  my  greyhounds,  "Ringwood" 
and  "  Vimy  Ridge,"  who  were  with  me,  seeing  me  go  with 
the  foxhounds,  very  sensibly  went  on  home  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

Being  a  bye-day,  the  only  ones  out  were  Mr.  Bodine, 
Bob  Strawbridge,  Bob,  Jr.,  and  Miss  Rose  Dolan. 

Drawing  down-country,  we  found  by  the  railroad 
bridge,  over  the  Marple  Road,  the  fox  going  away  and 
pointing  up-country  across  the  Brookthorpe  Farm,  then 
left-handed  through  the  wood  and  out  to  the  Darby  Road, 
where  hounds  ran  left-handed  again  into  the  wood,  on  up 
the  hill  at  a  very  fast  pace  with  beautiful  cry,  when  we 
heard  three  shots  right  in  front  of  hounds.  On  galloping 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill  we  came  upon  two  men  with  guns, 
one  of  whom  said,  in  very  broken  English,"  Dot  vas  a  fine 
fox."  Fortunately  their  three  shots  had  missed,  and,  after 
a  good  cursing-out,  we  left  them,  being  more  satisfied  than 
ever  that  a  German  is  not  a  sportsman  and  never  will  be. 

Their  shooting  checked  hounds  a  moment,  but  a  for- 
ward cast  by  Will  Leverton  put  them  right  again,  when 
they  made  another  big  circle  of  the  farm  and  finally  lost 
their  fox  down  by  the  meadow  on  the  I  than  Creek. 

Saturday,  i^th  November,  1919 

IT  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a  more  perfectly  ideal  day  for 
hunting  than  it  was  this  morning,  and  with  the  meet  at 
Goshen  School,  which  is  our  farthest  up-country  fixture, 
every  one  was  quite  surprised  as  well  as  disappointed  when 
hounds  moved  off,  to  find  they  were  to  draw  down-country, 
instead  of  the  Shellbark  Hollow  and  Hershey  Mill  coverts; 


i4o  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

for  as  luck  seems  to  have  it,  it's  generally  windy,  cold  or 
rainy,  when  we  get  as  far  away  from  home  as  Goshen. 

In  drawing  southward  from  Goshen,  we  saw  Sam  Kirk's 
hounds  running  up-country,  our  hounds  harking  to  them 
on  the  hills  back  of  Miss  Hook's,  where  the  main  body  of 
the  combined  packs  checked  for  a  moment;  but  several  of 
us  saw  a  few  hounds  cross  the  Goshen  road,  below  Miss 
Hook's,  into  the  swamp,  and  apparently  pointing  to  But- 
ton's mill,  where  later  the  rest  of  the  two  packs  went, 
making  a  turn  there  and  carrying  the  line  on  back  again 
and  into  Fairy  Hill,  with  the  field  spread  all  over  the  sur- 
rounding country  side. 

After  drawing  Delchester  and  on  to  the  paper  mill, 
and  coming  back  through  the  southerly  side  of  Delchester, 
another  fox  went  away,  giving  a  good  gallop  of  about 
twelve  minutes  to  Fairy  Hill,  where  he  was  marked  to 
ground  at  twenty  minutes  to  one  o'clock. 

It  seemed  that  most  of  us  down-country  people  had 
ordered  our  cars  to  be  at  Sugartown  at  one,  so  it  gave  us 
just  time  to  hack  back  there,  send  our  horses  home,  and 
motor  over  to  the  Pickering  Races. 

There  was  only  a  moderate  field  out,  including  the  Mas- 
ter, Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt,  Ben  Chew,  (the  Duchess) 
Mrs.  Louis  Clark,  Walter  and  Dick  Stokes,  Bob  Mont- 
gomery and  his  daughter,  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins,  Miss 
Heckscher,  Gurnee  Munn,  "Roddy"  Wanamaker,  and 
Tom,  the  Ash  ton  Boy,  Harry  Barclay,  and  Ben  Holland; 
but,  when  we  ran  into  Kirk's  hounds,  we  also  met  Dave  and 
Mrs.  Sharp  and  the  Misses  Beatrice  and  Gertrude  deCop- 
pet,  of  New  York,  who  have  arrived  for  the  season.  They 
were  given  a  great  reception  and  a  good  deal  of  ragging 
about  being  out  with  Kirk's  hounds,  when  Radnor  was 
hunting  the  same  country. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  I4i 

The  racing  at  Pickering  was  fair;  the  Point-to-Point  be- 
ing quite  the  best,  and  won  and  well  ridden  by  "Bint" 
Toland  on  his  "  Standpoint,"  by  "Jack  Point "  out  of  "  Gold 
Lady,"  who  seemed  to  have  lots  up  his  sleeve  at  the  finish. 

The  Pickering  Challenge  Cup  had  six  starters.  Welsh 
Strawbridge  on  "Riverbreeze";  Clarence  Kline  on  "Rus- 
kin";  "Gerry"  Leiper  on  R.  B.  Strassburger's  "Wolfer- 
ton  II";  Tommy  Wright  on  "Whirlwind";  Andy  Porter 
on  Bill  Clothier's  "Aldrian";  and  "Bint"  Toland  on 
"Lake- wood." 

It  was  a  nice  race  until  two,  "Riverbreeze"  and  "Lake- 
wood,"  went  down  at  the  fence  after  crossing  the  brook; 
then  at  the  lane  going  into  the  orchard  everybody  refused, 
and,  in  the  mix-up,  Gerry  Leiper  broke  a  stirrup  leather, 
putting  him  out,  and  "Ruskin"  and  "Aldrian"  were  left 
to  fight  it_out,  "Aldrian  "  finally  winning. 

Sugartown,  22nd  November,  1919 

THERE  were  only  thirty-six  turned  up  at  Sugartown  this 
morning;  quite  a  small  field  for  a  Saturday;  but  all  that  did 
turn  out  had  their  money's  worth  and  some  to  spare,  for  it 
was  one  of  the  real  old-fashioned  Radnor  days  with  a  five- 
mile  point  and  a  very  stout  fox  in  front  of  hounds. 

In  drawing  up-country  we  crossed  into  Hog  Lane  and 
worked  up  to  the  Hershey  's  Mill  Wood,  where  Ben  Chew, 
on  the  hillside  just  above  the  millpond,  viewed  a  big  "dog 
fox,"  as  he  described  it,  sitting  out  in  the  open.  He  hol- 
loaed and  hounds  were  brought  through  the  wood,  owning 
the  line  at  once,  swinging  right-handed  into  the  wood, 
then  out  and  down  the  hill  into  the  meadow,  when  they 
turned  down-country,  racing  up  the  opposite  hill. 

Just  as  hounds  went  away,  accidents  began  to  happen, 
so  some  of  us  had  a  bad  start.  Mr.  Bodine  in  going  through 


i42  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

the  wood  ran  into  a  barb-wire  fence,  his  horse  plunging  and 
kicking,  and  he  calling  out,  "Stanley,  help  me!  Stanley, 
help  me!  Get  off  your  horse  and  help  me!"  All  of  which  I 
was  doing  as  fast  as  I  could;  but  he  did  n't  get  off,  and  the 
horse  kept  on  kicking.  I  finally  caught  his  horse's  head, 
when  he  stopped  struggling,  and  Frank  Lloyd  took  hold  of 
his  hind  leg  and  untangled  the  wire;  then  Mr.  Bodine  got 
off.  It  was  a  nasty  cut,  but  he,  fortunately,  had  a  second 
horse  out,  which  he  met  at  a  check  a  few  minutes  later. 

Just  as  the  Master  was  in  trouble,  Mrs.  Dave  Sharp 
turned  over  at  a  small  but  very  awkward  fence  that  had 
a  single  strand  of  wire  in  it. 

Those  of  us  who  had  been  delayed  at  the  start  came  on 
terms  with  hounds  again  in  a  few  minutes  at  a  check  on  the 
corner  of  the  road  to  Frazer  Station.  Hounds  racing  on 
again  down-country  over  a  beautiful  line,  with  enough  big 
jumping  to  suit  the  most  fastidious,  and  over  the  fence, 
where  Alex.  Grange  was  killed  a  few  years  ago,  then  swing- 
ing right-handed  and  crossing  the  pike  below  the  Rush  Hos- 
pital, ran  on  to  the  covert  north  of  the  Sugartown  Road, 
through  it  and  into  the  Malvern  Barrens,  out  the  lower 
end,  down  the  long  meadow  and  on  into  the  S.  Boyer  Davis 
Farm,  then  left-handed  down  the  brook  to  William  Evans's 
wood,  where  hounds  swung  south  again,  running  out  to 
and  across  the  road  and  into  Fairy  Hill,  where  most  of  us 
thought  the  fox  would  go  to  ground.  But  he  apparently 
had  no  such  idea,  for  he  went  on  through  the  wood,  out 
the  upper  end  and,  pointing  his  mask  up-country,  gave  us 
a  good  gallop  up  as  far  as  the  wood  in  the  hollow  back  of 
the  Logan  Farm,  where  scent  failed  completely,  and,  after 
several  unsuccessful  casts,  hounds  were  taken  home. 

It  was  an  hour  and  thirty-five  minutes  of  as  nice  a  bit  of 
hunting  as  Radnor  has  had  for  many  a  day.  The  field  was 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  143 

thinned  out  pretty  well  towards  the  end,  those  having  the 
best  of  it  being:  The  Master  (whose  vicissitudes,  besides 
the  affair  with  the  wire,  consisted  of  the  side  bar  breaking 
on  his  saddle,  when  he  then  exchanged  saddles  with  Jack 
Caffery;  and  then  his  second  horse  cast  a  shoe);  Mrs.  Bob 
Strawbridge;  Ben  Chew,  riding  "Oviat";  Harry  Barclay; 
Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt;  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt,  going 
wonderfully,  on  "Tango";  Gardner  Cassatt  on  "Greymas- 
ter";  Ben  Holland;  Hinckle  Smith,  on  a  "  Master  of  Craft " 
colt;  Mr.  Beale;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  Miss  Beatrice  de- 
Coppet,  giving  a  chestnut  filly  a  great  school;  Dr.  Ash  ton's 
son  on  a  pony;  Ned  Dougherty;  Frank  Lloyd  on  "Sherry"; 
Mrs.  Gerry  Leiper,  who  never  seems  to  hurry,  but  is  always 
right  with  hounds;  Nelson  Buckley;  and  Miss  Gertrude 
Heckscher,  flying  the  big  ones  on  a  new  horse  just  up  from 
Baltimore. 

The  following  amusing  article  about  the  new  outlaw 
pack  that  is  hunting  the  Radnor  country  appeared  on  the 
front  page  of  the  Ledger  this  morning: 

SOCIETY  WOMEN  TO  VIEW  FOXHUNT  FROM  PLANES 

Some  Philadelphians  prominent  socially  will  view  from 
airplanes  a  novel  foxhunt  to  be  given  Thanksgiving  after- 
noon by  the  Fox  and  Hound  Club.  Each  plane  will  be  pi- 
loted by  veterans  in  the  air  service  and  will  contain  one 
passenger.  Among  the  passengers  will  be  Mrs.  Barclay  H. 

Warburton,  Miss  Constance  Drexel,  Miss  Isabelle  Wana- 

j  • 

maker,  Miss  Kitty  Smith,  Mrs.  Dobson  Altemus  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  William  du  Pont. 

A  white  streak  will  be  painted  on  the  fox  from  head  to 
tail  to  enable  the  aeroists  to  view  the  animal  in  flight.  The 
fox  was  captured  some  days  ago  and  will  be  turned  loose. 
The  brush  will  be  presented  to  the  lucky  woman  who  will 


I44  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

be  in  the  first  plane  at  the  "kill."  The  meet,  which  starts 
at  1 1  o'clock,  will  be  followed  by  a  luncheon  at  2. 

"  Thanksgiving  Day"  —  27 th  November,  1919 
IT  had  been  two  years,  owing  to  the  War,  since  Radnor  had 
held  its  annual  Thanksgiving  festivities;  and,  judging  by 
the  great  crowd  of  people  that  came,  all  the  horrors  of  war 
have  not  lessened  their  love  of  horses  and  hounds.  Quite 
the  opposite,  I  would  say. 

Instead  of  having  an  early  breakfast  for  the  farmers  to 
start  the  day,  this  year's  Committee  very  wisely  com- 
menced the  programme  at  nine-thirty  with  a  members' 
jumping  class  for  the  President's  Cup,  over  a  new  course 
laid  out  by  Isaac  Clothier.  Performance  only,  counted,  and 
Ben  Chew's  "Oviat,"  with  Roddy  Wanamaker  up,  won 
it  by  a  beautiful  performance,  with  Mrs.  Charley  Munn's 
grey  gelding  a  good  second. 

Then  came  the  farmers'  class,  which  caused  much  amuse- 
ment and  was  won  by  William  Evans,  Jr.'s,  "Blaze." 

Next  were  the  races  at  Colonel  McFadden's  farm,  and 
the  gallery  there  was  even  larger  than  at  the  kennels.  Six 
horses  started,  "Whirlwind"  with  "Tommy"  Wright  up; 
"Royal"  ridden  by  "Eddie"  Cheston;  "Wolferton  II" 
with  Gerry  Leiper  up,  as  usual;  "Brosseau"  under  Gilbert 
Mather;  "Bill"  Whaley,  and  then  "Bill"  Clothier  on 
"Aldrian."  "Brosseau"  and  "Wolferton"  were  both  even 
money  in  the  betting;  but  "Brosseau"  refused  the  first 
jump  going  up  the  hill  at  the  start,  so  was  out  of  it  imme- 
diately. "Whirlwind"  and  "Wolferton"  set  an  unusually 
hot  pace,  and  the  others  soon  commenced  to  go  down. 
"Aldrian,"  with  "Bill"  Clothier,  went  down  at  the  far  end 
of  the  course;  "Aldrian"  breaking  his  shoulder  and  having 
to  be  shot,  and  "Bill"  Clothier  breaking  his  collar  bone. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  145 

Coming  towards  home  from  the  far  side, "  Wolferton,"  who 
was  well  up  in  front,  had  a  bad  time  in  the  creek,  losing 
about  twenty  lengths;  then  "Bill"  Whaley  turned  upside 
down  with  "Andy  Porter,"  a  nasty-looking  fall,  but  with 
no  bad  results.  "Royal"  fizzed  out  at  the  top  of  the  hill 
and  "  Eddie  "  Cheston  pulled  him  up,  leaving  "  Whirlwind  " 
and  "Wolferton"  to  fight  it  out;  but  "  Wolferton  "  had  a 
good  deal  the  best  of  it  and  won  quite  easily;  Ralph  B. 
Strassburger  thereby  getting  a  leg  on  the  Radnor  Valley 
Farm  Challenge  Cup. 

R.H.R.  "Bint"  Toland  won  the  second  race,  the  Mas- 
ter's Cup,  with  "  Lake  wood,"  from  a  field  of  eight;  after 
which  every  one  went  either  to  Mrs.  Brown's  luncheon  or 
back  to  the  Club  to  lunch  with  the  farmers. 

At  three  o'clock  hounds  met  at  the  kennels,  with  about 
forty  in  the  field,  and  nearly  as  many  following  in  mo- 
tors. After  drawing  up-country  for  an  hour,  a  fox  went 
away  in  front  of  hounds  from  Harrison's  meadow,  and,  just 
as  our  pack  spoke  to  the  line,  we  saw  Donnon's  hounds 
running  up-country  in  the  opposite  direction.  Radnor 
hounds  came  up  to  the  Donnon  pack  with  a  beautiful  cry 
and  evidently  scared  his  mongrel  curs  out  of  their  wits, 
for  they  scattered  in  all  directions;  so  we  rode  on  through 
them  down-country  to  the  John  Brown  farm,  on  down 
to  Yarnall's  Hollow,  where  our  fox  turned  right-handed 
up-country  again,  by  the  race  track  and  on  through  Cal- 
vert's,  hounds  marking  their  fox  to  ground  on  the  hillside 
opposite  Mrs.  McGovern's,  just  at  dusk,  and  after  a  very 
nice  thirty-three  minutes'  gallop. 

Some  of  those  hunting  were:  The  Master;  Mrs.  Straw- 
bridge  and  Bob,  Jr.;  Mr.  Beale;  "Bint"  Toland;  Ben 
Chew;  William  M.  Kerr;  William  Foster  Reeve  and  his 
bride,  from  Rose  Tree;  Gardner  Cassatt;  Gerry  and  Mrs. 
Leiper;  Harry  Barclay;  and  Charley  and  Mrs.  Munn. 


146  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Saturday,  2<)th  November,  1919 

IT  looked  as  though  it  might  pour  at  any  moment,  when 
hounds  met  this  morning  at  White  Horse  at  ten  o'clock; 
but  the  wind  was  from  a  good  quarter  for  scent,  northeast, 
and  a  field  of  forty-six  turned  out,  despite  the  fact  that 
the  McFadden  Ball  had  kept  up  until  the  wee  small  hours. 

Fairy  Hill  was  the  first  draw,  and,  while  hounds  were  in 
covert,  Mrs.  Munn's  groom,  Holly,  viewed  a  fox  slipping 
out  the  west  side.  Will  Lever  ton  brought  the  pack  out  of 
covert,  when  they  owned  the  line  at  once,  crossing  the 
Bryn  Clovis  Dairy  Farm,  over  the  road  and  on  up-country 
to  the  hill  back  of  Miss  Hook's,  where  hounds  swung  left- 
handed,  and  it  looked  as  though  a  fresh  fox  went  away  in 
front  of  hounds,  as  two  and  a  half  couples  crossed  the 
Goshen  Road  into  Dutton's  Mill;  but  the  main  body  of  the 
pack,  fourteen  couples,  turned  back  down-country  over 
practically  the  same  line  as  we  had  gone  up;  the  fox  evi- 
dently going  under  in  his  home  earth  at  Fairy  Hill.  It 
was  a  good  thirty-minute  starter  for  the  day.  • 

The  second  fox  broke  from  the  lower  side  of  the  Mal- 
vern  Barrens,  at  the  same  instant  that  one  was  viewed  out 
the  upper  end.  Fortunately,  as  it  was  beginning  to  rain 
quite  hard  by  now,  hounds  came  out  of  covert  on  the  line 
of  the  fox  that  was  pointing  down-country,  and  ran  with  a 
breast-high  scent  right  on  his  heels  down  the  long  meadow 
to  the  road,  over  it,  bearing  slightly  left-handed  to  the 
Boyer  Davis  Farm,  and  on  into  William  Evans's  wood, 
crossing  the  creek  in  the  wood  and  over  the  hill  into  Evans's 
big  meadow,  where  hounds  were  put  to  their  noses,  scent 
being  quite  catchy  from  there  to  Cathcart's  Rocks. 

In  coming  out  of  the  White  Horse  Farm,  Bunny  Sharp's 
pony  slipped  in  crossing  the  bridge  and  went  down.  Cap- 
tain Count  Frassau,  of  the  Italian  Army,  who  was  gallop- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  147 

ing  right  back  of  him,  jumped  over  both  Bunny  and  his 
pony. 

On  the  lower  side  of  the  Rocks,  scent  improved,  hounds 
racing  down-country  through  the  meadows  back  of  the  Leo- 
pard to  the  Leiper  Farm,  and  crossing  the  road  into  the 
swamp  to  a  slight  check  on  the  far  side,  when  they  carried 
it  on  to  the  Baker  Farm,  hounds  marking  their  fox  to  earth 
in  the  rocks  on  the  hilltop,  after  a  very  nice  forty- three 
minutes. 

The  going  had  been  pretty  heavy  part  of  the  way,  and 
every  one  being  wet  from  the  rain,  the  Master  called  it  a 
day,  and  hounds  were  taken  in.  A  pipe  of  good  tobacco 
and  a  hack  back  to  kennels  with  Ben  Chew  completed  one 
of  the  best  days  of  the  season  to  date. 

Among  those  in  the  field  were:  The  Master;  Mrs.  Straw- 
bridge;  Bob  Strawbridge,  Jr.;  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins; 
Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp  and  Bunny;  Count  Frassau;  Mrs. 
Dorothy  Taylor,  of  New  York;  "Mac"  Kennedy,  of  New 
York;  Miss  deCoppet;  Ned  Blabon;  Ned  Dougherty;  Ben 
Holland;  Mrs.  Gurnee  Munn;  Mrs.  Charley  Munn;  Ben 
Chew;  Bob  Montgomery;  Miss  Helen  Hope  Montgomery; 
Frank  Voss,  of  New  York;  Lowber  and  Walter  Stokes: 
Thornton  Baker;  and  Dick  McNealy. 

The  Annual  Meeting  of  the  Club  in  the  evening  dragged 
a  bit,  I  thought.  The  absence  of  several  flights  of  cock- 
tails before  dinner  and  of  an  unlimited  supply  of  cham- 
paigne  during  the  meal  did  not  tend  to  increase  the  con- 
viviality of  the  evening. 

Messrs.  Thomas  G.  Ashton,  Charlton  Yarnall,  and  Fran- 
cis V.  Lloyd  were  elected  to  the  Board  of  Governors  to 
serve  three  years,  replacing  Messrs.  Robert  E.  Straw- 
bridge,  Charles  A.  Munn,  Jr.,  and  J.  Stanley  Reeve, 
whose  terms  expired. 


148  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Tuesday,  2nd  December,  1919 

WHENEVER  there's  a  fox  in  Mr.  Wayne's  Wood,  it's  a  good 
even  bet  the  field  will  have  a  gallop.  They  had  it  to-day, 
and  plenty  of  it. 

Hounds  met  at  eleven  at "  Waynesboro,"  and,  finding 
immediately,  pushed  their  fox  out  the  north  side  of  the 
covert,  and,  keeping  "Nawbeek"  on  their  right,  crossed 
the  road  with  a  beautiful  cry,  but  came  to  their  noses  in  the 
wood  for  a  moment,  then,  swinging  left-handed  across  the 
wheat-fields  with  a  burning  scent,  raced  towards  the  Leo- 
pard, their  line  then  turning  up-country  again  to  the  lower 
edge  of  Cathcart's  Rocks,  when,  with  a  holding  scent,  they 
fairly  flew  down  through  "Pick"  Harrison's  Seventy-Six 
Farm  into  Lockwood's  Hollow,  turning  right-handed 
through  Mr.  Pepper's,  and  crossing  the  White  Horse  Road 
into  Mr.  Yarnall's,  on  to  Mr.  Battles's,  where,  after  a 
moment's  check  in  the  meadow,  hounds  turned  left  again 
through  Innes's  Wood  and  into  the  Delmas  Farm,  when  the 
fox,  evidently  heading  for  home,  took  us  through  Lock- 
wood's  Hollow  and  back  to  "Nawbeek";  but  apparently 
being  turned  there,  ran  through  the  farmyard  and  back  to 
Cathcart's  Rocks,  where  he  probably  went  to  ground;  but 
hounds  did  not  mark  him  in. 

The  going  in  places  had  been  heavy,  but  pretty  good  as 
a  whole;  and  hounds  ran  and  horses  galloped  just  an  hour 
with  practically  no  checks. 

Most  of  us  came  home  from  there;  but  hounds  drew  on 
up-country  and  later  I  heard  had  another  boiling  run  of  an 
hour  and  thirty-five  minutes  from  Sugartown,  marking 
their  fox  under  near  Rocky  Hill,  with  the  horses,  that  were 
left  all  cooked  to  a  finish. 

There  were  about  twenty-five  out  in  the  morning,  but 
hounds  found  so  quickly  there  was  no  time  to  count  them. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  149 

Those  in  the  best  or  the  first  run,  besides  the  Master,  were: 
Miss  B.  deCoppet;  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt;  Miss  Eu- 
genia Cassatt,  going  great  guns  on  her  new  horse,  "Lord 
Cul pepper";  Miss  Rose  Dolan;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp; 
Ned  Blabon;  John  Converse;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge 
and  Bob,  Jr.;  Tommy  Wanamaker;  Henry  and  Mrs.  Col- 
lins; and  Ben  Holland 

During  luncheon  at  "Woodcrest"  on  Sunday,  the  prin- 
cipal topic  of  conversation  naturally  being  on  hunting,  the 
hostess  told  a  good  story  on  herself  and  family  that  was 
quite  apropos. 

It  seems  that  Mrs.  Gurnee  Munn,  while  hunting  on  Sat- 
urday, was  riding  slowly  down  a  lane  behind  Mr.  Bodine, 
the  field  being  off  to  one  side. 

Mr.  Bodine,  thinking  he  was  alone,  was  talking  to  him- 
self, and,  coming  to  a  flight  of  bars,  dismounted  to  let  them 
down,  saying  to  himself  as  he  did  so,  "Thank  God,  there 
are  no  Strawbridges  or  Munns  here  now!" 

Needless  to  say,  Mrs.  Munn  stayed  discretly  behind  a 
stack  of  corn  fodder,  but  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  remark. 


"SAM  KIRK'S  BREAKFAST" 

Saturday,  i$th  December,  1919 

WOMEN,  they  say,  date  things  from  the  time  their  babies 
are  born  (married  women,  of  course),  while  men  now  seem 
to  date  any  event  as  either  happening  before  the  War  or 
just  the  other  day;  so,  without  looking  it  up  in  my  diary, 
to  see  what  sort  of  a  run  we  had  the  last  time  Sam  Kirk  and 
his  good  wife  gave  a  hunt  breakfast,  I  '11  say  to-day's  party 
and  hunt  was  quite  up  to  pre-war  standards,  —  yes,  and  a 
little  better  than  pre-war,  barring  the  weather.  If  I  remem- 
ber rightly,  the  ground  was  hard  as  nails  the  last  time 


150  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

hounds  met  there,  while  to-day  it  was  soft,  much  too  soft; 
in  fact  so  squashy  that  Laurie  Bodine  had  to  call  his  field 
of  sixty-two  around  him  and  deliver  quite  an  oration  on  the 
subject,  during  which  one  could  hear  hounds  in  covert 
speaking  to  a  line,  and  I  'm  afraid  a  good  many  of  his  fol- 
lowing had  their  ears  pinned  back  and  eyes  turned  towards 
the  wood  from  which  was  coming  the  cry  of  hounds. 

Every  one  always  did  go  to  Sam  Kirk's  breakfast,  and 
every  one  with  his  wife  went  to-day,  even  if  it  did  look  as  if 
it  might  pour  any  minute.  There  was  lots  to  eat,  and  lots 
of  good  farmer  friends  to  say  "how-de"  to. 

Hounds  moved  off  promptly  at  eleven,  three  packs, 
Kirk's,  Stuart's,  and  Radnor,  about  forty-two  couples  all 
told.  The  first  draw,  William  Evans's  meadow,  being 
blank,  hounds  moved  on  up-country  to  the  Malvern  Bar- 
rens, when  Clyde  John  and  Dr.  Evans,  who  were  motoring 
along  the  Sugartown  Road,  viewed  a  fox  out  the  upper  end 
of  the  covert  and  holloaed  to  us;  at  the  same  instant  hounds 
picked  up  his  line  and  Dr.  Evans,  taking  off  his  hat,  waved 
them  on  across  the  meadow  to  the  road,  over  it,  and  then 
it  was  anybody's  race  from  there  on. 

Hounds  ran  straight  up  to  the  Rush  Hospital  meadows, 
swung  sharply  left-handed  through  the  swamp,  keeping 
Mr.  Coxe's  house  on  their  left,  and,  crossing  the  back  road 
to  Goshenville,  ran  down-country  nearly  to  Rocky  Hill, 
then,  turning  right-handed  again,  they  ran  clean  away 
from  us  and  we  had  a  fast,  muddy  gallop  on  the  roads  for 
about  twenty-five  minutes,  when  every  one  became  per- 
fectly plastered  with  mud  from  head  to  toes.  Personally, 
I  was  a  mess,  one  eye  full  of  stones  and  shut  tight,  mouth 
full  of  clay,  and  hounds  clear  out  of  sight  and  hearing  —  I 
forgot  my  ears;  they  were  full  of  mud,  too.  I  brought  home 
a  splendid  lot  of  Chester  County  with  me,  quite  my  share. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  151 

Finally,  just  beyond  Goshen  School,  we  met  a  farmer  who 
said  hounds  had  gone  on  towards  Hershey's  Mill,  and,  gal- 
loping through  John  Sullivan's  farm,  we  heard  them  on  our 
left;  but,  by  the  time  we  reached  the  Mill,  hounds  were 
out  of  hearing  again;  then,  on  going  out  the  King  Road, 
we  heard  them  in  a  wood;  but  a  very  angry  woman  would 
not  let  us  cross  her  farm,  so  we  had  to  do  more  road  work 
and  make  a  detour  up  to  the  Convent;  turning  left-handed 
and  crossing  the  railroad  beyond  Morestein  Station,  we 
came  up  with  hounds  in  the  Morestein  Wood,  they  having 
marked  their  fox  in  a  drain.  Sam  Kirk  on  a  mare  Dr.  Ash  ton 
loaned  him,  Bill  Evans,  Jr.,  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge  were  the 
only  ones  with  hounds  near  the  end;  all  the  rest  of  us  be- 
ing quite  off  to  one  side.  There  were  about  twenty  left  of 
the  sixty-two  that  started,  and  a  muddier  lot  I  never  saw. 
Hounds  ran  sixty-five  minutes,  making  a  five-mile  point, 
and  covering,  according  to  my  map  and  measuring  instru- 
ment, about  twelve  miles. 

The  fog  settled  down  again,  it  began  to  drizzle,  and  the 
eighteen  miles  home  looked  pretty  long  to  me,  when  a  cer- 
tain beautiful  but  much  mud-bespattered  lady  came  down 
a  lane  and  cheered  me  on  my  way.  I  remembered  my 
sandwich  case,  so  we  had  a  bite  to  eat  and  a  smoke,  and  let 
our  faithful  horses  walk  for  two  hours,  when  I  accepted  a 
very  delightful  invitation  to  tea  and  sent  my  good  horse 
"Poacher"  on  home  by  my  servant. 

Among  those  at  the  breakfast  and  hunting  were:  Mrs. 
Archibald  Thomson,  motoring;  Mr.  Davis  S.  B.  Chew  on 
"Cambridge";  The  Master;  John  H.  Converse;  "Randy" 
Snowden;  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins;  Edward  Ilsley,  in  a 
motor;  the  Misses  Beatrice  and  "Diana"  deCoppet;  Ned 
Blabon;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge 
and  Bob,  Jr.;  Mr.  Beale:  Ben  Holland;  Max  Livingston,  Jr., 


1 52  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

in  a  motor;  Frank  Lloyd;  Bunny  Sharp  and  Charlie  Har- 
rison on  ponies;  Miss  du  Pont;  William  and  Mrs.  du  Pont; 
and  Roddy  Wanamaker. 

Saturday,  2"jth  December,  1919 

IT'S  a  long  cry  on  a  frosty,  blue-nozed,  ground-as-hard-as- 
nails  sort  of  morning,  from  my  house  to  Sugartown;  but, 
as  I  cut  my  chin  on  the  right  side  when  shaving  this  morn- 
ing, I  knew  something  was  going  to  happen  before  the  day 
was  over.  It  did,  too,  and,  besides,  a  meet  at  Sugartown  has 
one  advantage;  one  is  able  to  do  a  bit  of  the  family  market- 
ing at  Clyde  John's  store.  To-day  it  was  "cob  honey,"  as 
the  children  call  it,  that  the  Missus  called  out  to  me  as  I 
was  leaving  home.  I  'm  always  in  a  hurry  to  get  started  to 
a  meet,  after  having  seen  my  horse  go  on  about  two  hours' 
before.  It  was  looking  at  my  horse  going  out  through  a 
corner  of  the  hedge,  with  one  eye,  and  trying  to  keep  the 
other  on  the  progress  of  a  razor,  that  accounted  for  the  cut 
on  my  chin,  I  'm  afraid.  Nevertheless,  things  began  to  hap- 
pen promptly  on  arrival  at  the  meet. 

A  chauffeur  was  raked  over  the  coals  by  a  very  irate 
M.F.H.  immediately  on  arrival;  then  a  certain  very  beau- 
tiful lady,  much  to  her  disgust,  had  her  veil  torn  off  by  the 
branch  of  a  tree,  in  the  first  covert  that  hounds  plus  the 
field  drew. 

The  scene  for  Act  Number  3  was  laid  outside  the  Mal- 
vern  Barrens,  the  curtain  dropping  on  a  crestfallen  and 
sad,  but  none  the  less  lovely,  lady,  who  had  been  requested 
to  make  less  noise. 

About  an  hour  later,  sandwiches  having  been  finished 
and  hounds  working  down-country  to  Dr.  Bartholomew's, 
a  fox  was  viewed  away,  and  we  had  a  fast  twenty  minutes 
through  Baker's  and  on  up  through  Hawthorne  to 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  153 

Waynesboro,  where  hounds  swung  left-handed,  came 
down-country  through  Sachse's  swamp,  out  to  the  Leo- 
pard and  back  to  Dr.  Bartholomew's,  where  comedy 
turned  to  tragedy,  and  after  a  few  uncensored  words  be- 
tween a  prominent  Master  of  Fox  Hounds  and  an  ex-Mas- 
ter, and  after  one  Master  had  been  invited  to  visit  in  a 
warmer  climate  than  we  have  at  Radnor  in  December,  one 
ex-M.F.H.  was  sent  home  from  school. 

Fortunately,  the  fumes  of  brimstone  did  not  spoil 
scent;  the  wind  was  in  our  favor;  but  so  interested  was  the 
field  in  the  drama  of  the  moment,  that  when  the  curtain 
was  lowered  on  scene  Number  4,  and  the  leading  man  (af- 
ter a  short  speech  to  his  interested  audience)  had  taken  his 
departure,  hounds  were  nearly  out  of  sight  and  hearing  and 
racing  up-country. 

We  came  on  terms  with  them  in  the  Hawthorne  Woods 
where  the  Master  of  Hawthorne  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  going  home  to  lunch. 

Hounds  made  another  big  circle  around  the  country, 
bringing  their  fox  through  Hawthorne  again,  but  by  this 
time  the  Master  of  Hawthorne  had  satisfied  the  inner  man, 
and  the  cry  of  hounds  disturbing  his  after-dinner  nap,  be- 
took himself  to  the  window,  saw  Reynard  crossing  the 
meadow,  and  the  inner  man  consenting,  caught  hounds  at 
Mr.  Wayne's  on  a  fresh  horse  and  had  another  hour  of 
hunting. 

Hounds  ran  their  fox  three  hours  and  five  minutes, 
making  three  circles  of  the  country.  Scent  was  catchy  after 
the  first  loop. 

Saturday,  loth  January,  1920 

CAN'T  you  feel  what  it  was  like,  even  if  you  were  not  at 
White  Horse  this  morning  at  eleven  o'clock?  The  glass 


154  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

stood  at  20°;  the  ground  was  like  a  bone;  and  the  wind  blow- 
ing a  gale.  Long  waits  outside  covert;  icy  cold  ringers  and 
no  gallop  until  two  o'clock,  fast  or  far  enough  to  take  the 
edge  off  a  colt  one  could  only  just  hold.  But  then  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day  quite  made  up  for  all  the  earlier  in- 
conveniences; and  think  how  good  you  felt  after  you'd  had 
a  hot  bath,  stuck  a  piece  of  court  plaster  on  your  nose,  and 
had  your  dinner. 

That 's  the  charm  of  foxhunting;  even  after  a  bad  day 
full  of  disappointments,  have  you  ever  met  a  man  or 
woman  who  was  really  keen,  who  was  not  ready  to  go  and 
do  it  all  over  again?  Your  appetite  grows  upon  what  it 
feeds  upon,  like  Antony's  did  for  Cleo. 

However,  our  first  draw  was  Fairy  Hill,  and  the  fair 
vixen  who  lives  there  refused  to  be  driven  out  over  the 
hills;  so  after  a  ten  minutes'  circle  of  the  wood,  she  went 
to  ground.  We  then  pottered  all  about  the  country  until  five 
minutes  after  two,  when  Frank  Smith  viewed  a  fox  away 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  Malvern  Barrens.  Hounds  owned 
the  line  at  once,  crossing  the  road  and,  turning  south,  ran 
at  top  speed  through  the  Boyer  Davis  Farm  to  "Bill" 
Evans's  Wood,  and  on  down  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  where 
they  turned  left-handed  and  fairly  flew  back  to  the  Sugar- 
town  end  of  the  Barrens.  Here  we  viewed  Reynard  cross- 
ing a  wheat-field  with  one  hound  way  out  in  front  of  the 
pack  and  only  about  fifty  yards  behind  him. 

Either  the  excitement  of  the  view,  or  something,  I  don't 
know  what,  made  the  great  majority  of  our  field  take  the 
wrong  line,  for  they  never  saw  hounds  again ;  and  seven  of 
us,  Henry  Collins,  Harry  Barclay,  Malcolm  Lloyd,  Gard- 
ner Cassatt,  Ben  Holland,  and  Mr.  Beale,  had  the  thing 
all  to  ourselves  for  over  an  hour. 

Barring  the  bad  going,  it  was  a  beautiful  gallop,  for 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  155 

hounds  ran  down  to  the  lower  end  of  the  wood,  then  out 
right-handed  and,  keeping  Evans's  Wood  on  their  right, 
raced  across  the  meadows  to  the  White  Horse  Farm  and  on 
to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  then,  turning  sharply  left-handed, 
ran  back  over  the  hill  into  the  Davis  Farm  and  finally  to 
Evans's  meadow,  where  we  met  Will  Leverton  looking  for 
hounds,  and  his  horse,  with  a  touch  of  colic,  or  something, 
as  he  wanted  to  lie  down  every  time  Will  would  stop.  Will 
told  us  every  one  had  gone  home,  so  hounds  were  whipped 
off  and  we  called  it  a  day,  having  had  an  hour  and  thirty- 
two  minutes,  all  of  it  pretty  fast  and  the  going  atrocious. 

There  were  over  forty  in  the  field,  including:  Mr.  Bo- 
dine;  Mr.  Beale;  Bill  and  Mrs.  Rolin;  Dick  and  Wal- 
ter Stokes;  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt;  John  Converse  and 
"Randy"  Snowden;  Ben  Holland;  Hector  McNeal  and  his 
daughter;  Oswald  Chew,  on  a  new  horse  he  had  just  bought 
from  Dave  Sharp;  Dave  Sharp;  Frank  Lloyd;  Henry  Col- 
lins; Gardner  Cassatt;  Gerry  Leiper;  "Buck"  and  Ned 
Dougherty. 

"Gladeye,"  one  of  our  best  bitches,  and  who,  with  her 
litter  sister  "Gladys,"  won  the  class  for  best  couple  of 
bitches  in  the  last  Bryn  Mawr  Hound  Show,  met  with 
an  accident  to-day,  and  somehow  cut  the  cushion  entirely 
out  of  a  hind  foot.  "Gladeye"  and  "Gladys"  also  won 
the  hound  class  at  Mrs.  Clothier's  Pony  and  Dog  Show  a 
couple  of  years  ago. 

Tuesday,  i$th  January,  1920 

"A  SOUTHERLY  wind  and  a  cloudy  sky,  proclaim  it  a  hunt- 
ing morning."  So  says  the  old  song.  A  southerly  wind  may 
be  all  right  in  England,  but  it's  not  supposed  to  be  a  good 
sign  in  this  part  of  the  world.  The  cloudy  sky  is  all  right, 
though. 


156  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

I  was  rather  glad  when  I  saw  the  wind  was  from  the 
south  this  morning,  for  the  ground  was  much  too  hard  and 
icy  to  have  to  gallop  over  very  fast;  and,  as  it  turned  out, 
scent  was  just  catchy  enough  to  keep  hounds  well  to  their 
noses,  so  by  keeping  on  the  inside  of  the  circle  one  could  go 
along  at  a  nice  hand  gallop,  yet  keep  right  alongside  of  them. 

The  meet  was  at  the  Happy  Creek  Farms  barn  at 
eleven  o'clock,  and  at  twelve  minutes  past  eleven  hounds 
spoke  to  a  cold  line  in  Mr.  Harrison's  big  field,  carrying 
it  slowly  down  the  meadow  and  across  the  brook  up  the 
opposite  hillside  and  on  into  Cal vert's  Wood;  then,  cross- 
ing into  Bioren's  Swamp,  turned  left-handed  at  the 
Newtown  Road  and  ran  quite  fast  across  John  Calvert's 
into  Mr.  John  Brown's  wood;  crossing  the  creek,  keeping 
the  mill  on  their  left;  they  ran  on  into  Mr.  Harrison's 
meadows  again,  and,  swinging  left-handed,  went  through 
Hector  McNeal's  and  Dr.  Bartholomew's.  Crossing  the 
Leopard  Road  into  the  Leiber  Farm,  they  sank  the  vale 
into  Lockwood's  Hollow,  going  on  over  George  Pepper's 
into  the  Delmas  place,  where,  at  quite  a  check,  several  of 
us  pulled  out  and  came  home,  having  had  an  hour  and 
twenty  minutes. 

There  was  only  a  small  field  out,  including  the  Master; 
Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  on  "Greymaster";  Miss  Alex. 
Dolan  on  Arthur  White's  grey;  Miss  Harriet  Brown,  of 
Baltimore,  very  beautiful  and  riding  a  chestnut  of  Frank 
Lloyd's;  Ned  Dougherty  on  his  chestnut  mare;  and  Nelson 
Buckley  and  Henry  Collins. 

Saturday,  l^th  February,  1920 

AFTER  having  been  stopped  by  snow  and  ice  since  January 
1 3th,  hounds  met  at  the  kennels  at  one  o'clock  to  see  if 
they  could  run  on  top  of  the  crust  of  the  snow,  and  possibly 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  157 

give  us  a  bit  of  music,  even  if  we  could  n't  stay  with  them; 
but,  after  drawing  Mrs.  Clyde's  and  Bob  Montgomery's 
coverts  blank,  and  finding  the  going  about  as  bad  as 
possible,  a  fox  went  away  from  Yarnall's  Hollow;  and, 
bad  as  the  going  was,  it  was  a  relief  to  get  out  again  and 
to  have  a  run  down-country  after  a  season  of  hunting 
over  practically  the  same  section  of  country  since  early  in 
October. 

Good  as  our  early  season  was,  it  was  a  bit  monotonous  at 
times,  as  practically  every  run  has  been  in  the  same  imme- 
diate neighborhood. 

Scent  was  quite  good  at  first,  and,  after  racing  down  the 
hillside  and  crossing  the  breast  of  the  dam,  hounds  pushed 
on  through  Mr.  Earle's  wood  with  a  beautiful  cry,  and, 
crossing  the  Goshen  Road  into  the  Hospital  Farm,  were 
brought  to  their  noses;  then,  working  it  at  a  fair  pace  to 
the  Radnor  Barrens,  they  ran  on  to  a  slight  check  at  Saw 
Mill  Hill,  when,  after  crossing  the  Radnor  and  Chester 
Road,  they  raced  on  to  Bromall,  and,  keeping  Dan  Con- 
ner's farmhouse  on  their  left,  turned  back  over  the  Chester 
Road  and  took  us  quite  fast  into  the  Barrens,  over  Bryn 
Mawr  Avenue  and  the  Hospital  Farm  to  Old  Square, 
where  they  gave  it  up. 

Our  horses  were  about  ready  to  give  it  up,  too,  as  they  had 
been  galloping  through  the  snow  up  to  their  knees  for  an 
hour  and  fifteen  minutes. 

There  were  only  eight  out,  including  the  Master;  Mrs. 
Valentine  on  "Lone  Ben";  Harry  Barclay  on  "Jerry  Ro- 
han"; Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  on  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt's 
new  chestnut;  George  Brooke  III,  and  Thornton  Baker, 
and  Oswald  Chew. 

When  we  pulled  up  at  Old  Square,  we  could  hear  an- 
other pack  of  hounds  in  full  cry,  farther  on  up-country, 


158  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

finding  out  later  on  that  they  were  the  Rose  Tree,  having 
brought  a  fox  over  from  Broadlawn. 

Thursday,  iSth  March,  1920 

HOUNDS  not  having  had  anything  top-hole  for  so  long, 
owing  to  the  bad  weather,  it  was  a  relief  to-day  to  see  them 
really  go,  even  if  the  going  was  such  that  a  horse  could 
barely  live  with  them.  It  was  quite  knee-deep  in  places 
and  in  good  shoe-pulling  mud. 

Meeting  at  the  Happy  Creek  Farms  barn  at  one-thirty, 
hounds  found  very  shortly  in  the  swamp  back  of  Mrs. 
McGovern's,  and,  crossing  the  Paoli  Road,  raced  into  Dr. 
Bartholomew's,  crossing  the  Leopard  road  into  Lockwood's 
Hollow,  and  on  to  Cathcart's  Rocks,  to  Fairy  Hill,  then 
straight  up-country  to  Miss  Hook's  corner,  where  they 
gave  it  up,  scent  failing  completely. 

It  was  a  seven-and-a-quarter-mile  point,  done  in  fifty- 
three  minutes,  which,  considering  the  condition  of  the 
ground,  was  not  bad  at  all.  Hounds  never  dwelt  a  mo- 
ment from  the  time  they  found. 

There  was  only  a  small  field  out;  besides  the  Master, 
there  being:  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  on  "Hopewell " ;  Miss 
Eugenia  Cassatt  on  "Lord  Culpepper";  the  Secretary, 
Walter  Stokes;  Gerry  Leiper;  Nelson  Buckley;  and  Arthur 
Meigs. 

Saturday,  20th  March,  1920 

ALTHOUGH  the  going  to-day  was  hock-deep  in  places  and 
fetlock-deep  everywhere,  hounds  ran  and  horses  galloped 
an  hour  and  twenty-five  minutes  in  the  hilliest  part  of  our 
country.  But  the  air  had  a  good  crisp  snap  to  it,  and,  if 
hounds  checked  a  moment  on  the  windy  hilltops,  one  had 
to  keep  on  the  move  at  once  to  keep  from  shivering. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  159 

Scent  was  breast-high  for  the  first  hour,  but,  as  hounds 
pushed  their  fox  farther  up-country,  where  the  high  wind 
had  more  of  a  sweep,  they  were  put  to  their  noses,  and  sel- 
dom have  I  seen  a  pack  work  more  industriously.  O'Mal- 
ley  Knott,  of  New  York,  who  was  riding  one  of  Geoffery 
Tower's  Canadian  horses,  and  whose  first  day  it  was  with 
Radnor,  remarked  several  times  what  a  hard-working  pack 
it  was  and  what  a  beautiful  cry  they  had.  Personally,  I 
thought  Will  Leverton  hunted  them  as  well  as  I  had  ever 
seen  him  do  the  trick. 

Hounds  pushed  their  fox  out  of  the  Brookthorpe  Spin- 
ney with  a  wonderful  burst  of  music,  the  whole  field  view- 
ing him  away,  a  very  light-colored  fox;  and,  taking  him  out 
to  the  Chimney  Corner,  swung  left-handed  to  the  Darby 
Creek,  and,  following  it  down  to  the  golf  course,  turned 
back,  and,  racing  at  top  speed  over  Brookthorpe,  swam  the 
creek  and  fairly  flew  over  the  hill  to  Foxcroft  and  to  the 
Radnor  Barrens,  and,  on  crossing  the  railroad  into  the  Hos- 
pital Farm,  were  brought  to  their  noses  for  the  first  time. 
Dwelling  a  moment  on  the  hilltop,  they  sank  the  valley 
into  Broad  Acres  and  worked  it  out  rather  slowly  to  Yar- 
nall's  Hollow,  where  hounds  overshot  the  line;  and,  at  the 
moment's  breathing  spell,  a  certain  Mr.  X  came  trotting 
up  with  his  horse's  head  covered  with  mud,  which  told  the 
tale  of  his  wanderings  as  plainly  as  those  of  a  certain  Mr. 
Y,  of  Radnor,  who  one  night  quite  recently  at  a  ball  disap- 
peared for  some  time,  as  did  a  certain  most  fascinating 
young  lady  we  all  know.  Upon  Mr.  Y's  return  to  the  ball- 
room there  were  large  particles  of  scarlet  on  his  lips  of  the 
same  hue  as  the  passionate  lips  of  his  fair  companion.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  Will  Leverton  made  a  backward  cast  and 
hounds  raced  away  once  more,  crossed  the  road  and  ran  to 
the  John  Brown  Wood  where  they  gave  it  up  completely. 


160  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

The  horses  had  all  had  enough,  if  we  had  n't,  so  we 
jogged  back  to  the  kennels  for  lunch,  which  seemed  quite 
like  the  good  old  days. 

Among  the  field  were:  Mr.  Bodine;  Miss  Cassatt,  going 
great  guns  on  "Hopewell";  Gerry  Leiper  on  a  chestnut 
colt;  Frank  Lloyd  on  "Sherry";  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt; 
Arthur  Meigs;  O'Malley  Knott;  Miss  Stevens,  of  the 
Essex  Hunt;  Jack  Lucas;  Geoffery  Tower;  "Dick"  Stokes; 
Bob  Montgomery  on  a  big  brown  horse,  Walter  Stokes;  and 
John  Converse  on  a  very  nice  galloping  grey. 

Tuesday,  2yd  March,  1920 

FIVE  years  ago  to-day  —  but  it  does  n't  seem  that  long  ago 
—  Radnor  hounds  had  one  of  their  greatest  runs  on  record; 
and  to-day,  barring  the  awful  going,  had  two  really  top- 
hole  runs. 

Meeting  at  Happy  Creek  Farms  at  one-thirty,  hounds 
found  their  first  fox  in  the  Railroad  Farm,  and,  swinging 
down  country  to  Yarnall's  Hollow  and  Mr.  Earle's  hill- 
top, turned  back  and  marked  their  fox  to  ground  in  Mr. 
Brown's  lower  drain,  after  thirty-five  minutes  of  very  nice 
work,  but  extremely  heavy  galloping. 

The  next  draw  was  Dr.  Bartholomew's  Wood,  where  a 
light-colored  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  upper  end, 
hounds  owning  the  line,  and,  carrying  it  up-country  to 
the  Hawthorne  Wood,  circled  back  through  Burnham's, 
skirted  the  lake  and  raced  back  to  where  we  found,  then, 
crossing  the  Leopard  Road,  ran  very  fast  through  Lock- 
wood's  Hollow  to  Cathcart's  Rocks  over  the  White  Horse 
Farm  to  Evans's  meadow,  where  hounds  turned  left- 
handed  back  to  Mr.  Cuyler's,  and,  crossing  the  road  at  the 
red  bridge,  followed  the  creek  through  Mr.  Yarnall's  and 
out  to  the  Goshen  Road,  where  they  dwelt  a  moment,  and, 


Photograph  by  Harry  S.  Hood 

MISS  EUGENIA  KELSO  CASSATT  ON  "  LORD  CULPEPPER 
AND  HENRY  C.  BARCLAY,  ESQ.,  ON  "  JERRY  ROHAN" 

1921 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  161 

as  all  the  horses  were  completely  done,  hounds  were 
brought  home.  We  thought  the  going  bad  on  Thursday 
and  Saturday  of  last  week,  but  it  was  much  more  holding 
to-day,  horses  laboring  at  every  stride,  which  to  me  takes  a 
great  deal  of  the  pleasure  out  of  a  gallop.  However,  only  one 
horse  was  broken  down,  but  most  all  were  cooked.  Be- 
sides the  Master,  on  one  of  his  bays,  there  were  Ben  Chew 
on  "Oviat";  Miss  Cassatt  on  "Hopewell";  Bob  Montgom- 
ery; Walter  Stokes;  Gardner  Cassatt  on  "Greymaster"; 
Harry  Barclay  on  his  brown  horse;  John  Converse  on  "Win- 
gate";  Nelson  Buckley;  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt  on  "Lord 
Culpepper";  Arthur  Meigs;  Frank  and  Malcolm  Lloyd; 
and  Bunny  Sharp,  who  appeared  on  a  pony  as  we  went 
through  Hawthorne. 

Saturday,  2jth  March,  1920 

IT  's  all  over  now  for  the  present,  or  until  next  August  or 
September,  and  to-day's  run,  the  last  of  the  season,  was 
not  the  least  of  the  season  by  a  long  shot,  even  if  the  end  of 
it  was  most  unsatisfactory. 

No  more  —  at  least  not  for  many  moons  —  shall  we  ride 
home  muddy,  but  glorious,  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  in  the 
drenching  rain.  No  more  shall  we  get  off  and  lead  awhile, 
say  a  couple  of  miles,  because  your  faithful  gee  has  cast  a 
near  front  shoe,  and  the  motor  you  telephoned  for  fails  to 
put  in  its  appearance  at  about  the  exact  spot  you  figured  it 
out  in  your  mind  you  would  meet  it. 

But  the  fox  we  galloped  through  the  mud  after  to-day 
was  very  evidently  a  visiting  lad,  making  a  call  probably  to 
look  over  the  results  of  former  visits,  when  his  thoughts 
had  been  more  of  love  than  Mr.  Farmer's  hen-roost;  and 
for  the  future  of  hunting,  let 's  hope  he  found  the  family 
large  and  thriving,  as  I  'm  told  it  is  in  this  particular  wood. 


1 62  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

After  finding  several  coverts  blank,  a  fox  was  viewed  out 
of  Merrick's  Swamp,  not  fifty  yards  in  front  of  hounds, 
and,  pointing  his  mask  towards  Lockwood's  Hollow,  took 
us  through  some  of  the  deepest  going  I've  ever  had  the 
misfortune  to  see;  but,  turning  right-handed  in  Mr.  Pep- 
per's, hounds  ran  parallel  to  the  White  Horse  Road,  which 
gave  us  a  chance  to  come  on  terms  with  them  again  at  Cath- 
cart's  Rocks;  then  fairly  flying  over  the  White  Horse  Farm 
to  Fairy  Hill. 

The  country  was  so  deep  that  horses  could  not  stay 
with  hounds,  and  they  ran  clear  away  from  us  all.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  assistance  of  kindly  farmers,  I  doubt  if  we 
would  have  found  them  again  all  day.  A  man  ploughing  at 
Rocky  Hill  waved  us  on  towards  Milltown,  and,  just  be- 
fore reaching  there,  another  man  in  a  cart  said  hounds 
were  right  back  of  their  fox  and  heading  for  the  Westtown 
School,  so  crossing  the  pike  below  Milltown,  and  bearing 
westerly,  we  were  much  relieved  to  see  hounds  going  over 
the  hill  just  beyond  the  Tanguey  Store,  and,  on  coming  up 
to  them  soon  after  at  a  check  on  the  Peter's  Farm  at  West- 
town  Station,  found  that  they  were  six  couples  short;  but, 
while  Will  Leverton  was  casting,  we  heard  hounds  on  ahead 
of  us  and  saw  them  going  up  a  hillside  about  a  mile  beyond 
the  station.  No  attempt  was  made  to  get  to  them,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  pack  that  we  were  with  were  taken  home 
on  the  pretext  that  the  hounds  in  front  were  not  part  of  our 
pack.  Maybe  they  were,  and  maybe  they  were  not,  but  we 
foolishly  waited  around  arguing  the  question,  until  the 
forward  hounds  were  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  and  too  far 
away  to  make  a  try  for  them  on  horses  that  had  been  gal- 
loping through  mud  for  sixty-five  minutes  at  top  speed,  so 
we  all  started  for  home. 

It  was   an   eight-and-a-half-mile   point,   and   we  un- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  163 

doubtedly  missed  making  an  historic  run  of  it  by  not  go- 
ing on  after  the  six  couples  that  were  in  front  of  us,  and 
were  heading  straight  towards  the  Brandywine. 

It  was  a  long  but  pleasant  hack  home  for  the  few  that 
survived,  who,  besides  the  Master,  were:  Gerry  Leiper  on 
"Miss  Ebony";  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  on  the  Master's 
"Richmond";  Harry  Barclay  on  "Jerry  Rohan";  Bob 
Montgomery;  Randy  Snowden  on  "Uncle  Sam";  Miss 
Eugenia  Cassatt;  John  Converse;  and  Frank  Lloyd. 


SUNNYBROOK  FARM 

Thursday,  22nd  April,  1920 

IN  my  early  youth  I  was  brought  up  to  believe  an  oasis  was 
a  beautiful  place  with  flowers  and  lots  of  bubbling  water; 
and  now  that  I  am  supposed  to  have  reached  that  age 
when  one  puts  away  childish  thoughts,  I  find  that  my 
childhood's  definition  was  pretty  near  right;  but  I  never 
knew  until  last  night  that  a  real  bona-fide  foxhunting  oasis, 
laden  with  flowers  and  flowing  with  bubbly  water,  ex- 
isted so  near  at  hand  as  Isaac  H.  Clothier's  Sunnybrook 
Farm  at  Radnor. 

Webster  says  an  oasis  is  "  A  fertile  spot  in  a  barren, 
sandy  desert";  and  as  dryness  is  supposed  to  make  a  desert 
—  but  why  go  on  like  this,  let 's  get  to  the  point  of  the  thing. 

About  a  month  ago  our  good  Quaker  sportsman,  Isaac, 
invited  us  to  this  delightful  dinner,  to  meet  S.  Laurence 
Bodine,  M.F.H.,  Radnor  Hunt,  and  the  birds  that  mi- 
grate in  the  spring  had  all  brought  wonderful  stories  of  the 
bubbling  water  of  life  that  they  had  tasted  at  Sunnybrook. 

There  were  thirty-five  scarlet-coated  foxhunters,  be- 
sides our  host  and  his  guest  of  honor,  and  from  Mar- 
tinis to  Corona  Coronas  there  was  not  a  check.  The  field 


164  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

master  of  the  evening,  Mr.  Beale,  did  not  have  a  blank 
draw,  every  covert  produced  good  sport.  Croppers  there 
were,  of  course,  but  what  good  sporting  run  does  not  pro- 
duce a  few,  especially  when  crossing  such  stiff  country? 

A  few  of  the  unanswered  questions  of  the  evening  were: 

Where  did  Mr.  Erdenheim  get  his  shirt? 

Exactly  what  was  it  Mr.  Delchester  wanted  Mr.  Har- 
ford  to  explain? 

Why  does  Mr.  Wingate  sleep  in  a  mo  tor  ? 

Who  ran  into  the  rocks? 

Who  made  Mr.  Hawthorne  deaf? 

Among  the  others  present  were:  Colonel  J.  Franklin  Mc- 
Fadden,  Messrs.  W.  Plunket  Stewart,  John  R.  Valentine, 
John  W.  Converse,  Walter  Stokes,  Edward  F.  Beale, 
Charles  E.  Coxe,  Frederick  Phillips,  Christian  A.  Hagen, 
A.  J.  A.  Devereux,  Edward  B.  Chase,  William  J.  Clothier, 
Morris  L.  Clothier,  Rowland  Comly,  Edwin  V.  Dougherty, 
Dr.  Thomas  G.  Ashton,  David  B.  Sharp,  Henry  L.  Col- 
lins, R.  Nelson  Buckley,  James  G.  Leiper,  Jr.,  Edward 
Ilsley,  Jacob  S.  Wain,  William  M.  Kerr. 

MARYLAND  HUNT  CUP 

24/A  April,  1920 

THE  ten-thirty  train  to  Baltimore  this  morning  seemed 
quite  like  a  big  foxhunting  family  party  off  on  a  spree. 
Even  the  colored  porter  of  the  parlor  car  was  all  smiles,  and 
confided  to  me,  when  nearing  our  destination,  that  "  Mis- 
ter Stewart  is  the  finest  gentleman  that  ever  travels  on 
this  road." 

After  luncheon  at  the  Belvedere,  we  motored  out  to 
Captain  John  Ridgely's  lovely  old  place,  Hampton,  in  time 
to  walk  over  the  course,  and  have  a  look  at  the  fourteen 
starters  before  the  race. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  165 

Mr.  Foxhall  P.  Keene's  "Masterful,"  standing  in  his 
box,  looked  pretty  good  to  many  of  the  crowd  and  was 
quite  a  favorite  in  the  betting,  as  was  Mr.  Strassburger's 
"Wolferton  II"  and  Mr.  Fenwick's  "Margery  Jaque." 
Some  of  the  Philadelphia  contingent  still  pinned  their 
faith  to  Mr.  Clothier's  "  Brosseau,"  despite  his  poor  show- 
ing at  White  Marsh  a  week  ago;  but  many  admiring  eyes 
were  turned  towards  Mrs.  Maddox's  grey  gelding,  "Ora- 
cle II,"  on  which  the  odds  were  10  to  I.  The  fourteen,  in- 
cluding "Oracle  II,"  "Jidgie,"  "Wolferton  II,"  "Lake- 
wood,"  "Masterful,"  "Margery  Jaque,"  "Flashy  Jake," 
"Hollander,"  "Jack  Senhouse,"  "Manchu,"  "Mabo," 
"Brosseau,"  "  Bill  Whaley,"  and  "Ruskin,"  were  gotten 
away  nicely.  "Bill  Whaley"  hit  the  second  fence  pretty 
hard  and  lost  his  rider,  Mr.  J.  N.  Ewing,  but  "Bill  Wha- 
ley" went  on,  leading  the  field,  and,  coming  down  the  hill 
into  the  valley,  refused  the  brook,  and,  turning  sharply  to 
the  right,  ran  into  "  Margery  Jaque,"  throwing  her.  Mr. 
Thompson  was  up  and  on  again  in  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  write  it,  but  with  "Masterful"  now  a  good  fifty  lengths 
in  the  lead  and  galloping  easily  up  the  hill.  "Master- 
ful" was  still  well  in  front  when  they  came  through  the 
Hampton  farmyard,  but  stopped  at  the  fence  out  of  the 
plough,  causing  quite  a  mix-up;  then,  when  they  came 
round  again  to  the  in-and-out,  they  all  jumped  in,  but  all 
also  refused  to  jump  out.  Finally  Major  Arthur  White 
on  "Oracle"  gave  them  a  lead,  which  he  kept  to  the  fin- 
ish with  "Wolferton,"  Mr.  George  Blakiston,  Jr.,  up,  a 
close  second,  followed  by  "Margery  Jaque"  and  "Lake- 
wood,"  third  and  fourth  respectively. 

Tea  at  Hampton  after  the  race  was  most  delightful,  as 
was  the  remark  of  the  old  greyhaired,  colored  butler,  who 
said  to  our  hostess,  as  we  were  going  to  the  dining-room, 


1 66  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

"Miss  Alice,  that  bowl  of  punch  on  the  window-sill  is  for 
you  and  your  friends;  it  has  more  body  to  it  than  the  bowl 
on  the  table!" 

After  a  toast  to  the  ladies,  foxhunting,  and  "Oracle  II," 
and  a  stroll  through  the  lovely  gardens  of  Hampton,  we 
motored  back  to  Baltimore  and  dined  on  the  train. 

Among  the  cosmopolitan  throng  that  the  Maryland 
Hunt  Cup  always  attracts  were:  Mrs.  Henry  Bell,  Miss 
Ridgely,  Mrs.  Ridgely,  Brose  and  Mrs.  Clarke,  "  Foxy " 
Keene,  Arthur  Hall,  Victor  and  Mrs.  Mather,  Ben  Chew, 
Miss  Welsh,  W.  W.  Lanahan,  Redmond  C.  Steward,  T. 
Courtney  Jenkins,  W.  Plunket  Stewart,  Devy  and  Mrs. 
Devereux,  Govey  Cadwalader,  Gerry  Leiper,  George  and 
Mrs.  Saportas,  Bill  and  Mrs.  Clothier,  Mrs.  Henry,  Ned 
Ilsley,  Dal  and  Mrs.  Dixon,  Miss  Letty  McKim,  Jim  Mad- 
dox,  B.  H.  Brewster,  Jr.,  John  Bosley,  Jr.,  Billy  Wilbur, 
Gilbert  Mather,  Miss  Mather,  Mrs.  Strassburger,  "  Bint " 
Toland,  Mrs.  Meyers  Pierce,  Clarence  Kline,  Frank  Bonsai, 
Eugene  Levering,  Jr., "  Mack  "  Kennedy,  Geoffery  Tower, 
Harry  Renwick,  Al  and  Mrs.  Davis,  and  Bob  Strawbridge. 

Attend,  ye  farmers,  to  this  tale, 
And  when  ye  mend  the  broken  rail, 
Reflect  with  pleasure  on  a  sport, 
That  lures  your  landlord  from  the  court, 
To  dwell  and  spend  his  rents  among 
The  country  folk  from  whom  they  sprung 
And  should  his  steed  with  trampling  feet, 
Be  urged  across  your  tender  wheat, 
That  steed,  perchance,  by  you  was  bred, 
And  yours  the  corn  by  which  he's  fed. 
Ah!  then  restrain  your  rising  ire, 
Nor  rashly  curse  the  hunting  squire. 

WARBURTON 


SEASON  OF  1920-1921 


SEASON  OF  1920-1921 

CUBBING— 1920 

As  Sabretache  in  The  Tatler  once  said: 

"  There 's  no  use  beating  about  the  bush;  one  might  just 
as  well  come  right  out  and  'fess  up  like  a  man,  and  admit 
that  there  is  only  one  real  sport,  and  that  is  the  pursuit 
of  Charles  James  Fox. 

"You  may  fool  yourself,  about  the  first  of  April,  into 
thinking  that  you  want  to  go  fishing,  so  fishing  you  go; 
and  it's  a  good  ten-to-one  shot  that  they  won't  bite  that 
day,  and  they  don't;  but  you  can  think  up  a  good  reason 
why,  and,  besides,  you  've  had  a  nice  day  in  the  open,  and 
smelled  a  lot  of  good  meadow  and  marshy  smells.  But  two 
or  three  such  days,  and  you  put  the  fishing  kit  away;  and 
then  later  on  maybe  try  a  bit  of  yachting;  but  yachting 
needs  two  very  important  things,  a  regular  girl  to  amuse 
you,  and  a  dead  certainty  that  you  are  not  going  to  get 
seasick;  and  if  Dame  Fortune  favors  you  and  you  don't  get 
seasick,  you  spend  most  of  your  idle  moments  thinking  of 
hunting.  So  that  only  goes  to  prove  it's  the  one  and  only 
sport;  and,  besides,  what  else  can  a  decent-minded  man 
think  of  but  the  fox? 

"  So  here  it  is,  the  first  of  September  again,  and  the  gees 
have  been  up  from  grass  for  five  weeks,  and  squeal  and 
buck  every  time  you  go  out  for  a  ride.  You  know  for  sure 
where  there  are  several  splendid  litters  of  cubs,  and  when 
that  first  morning  comes,  it's  a  bit  sultry,  hot,  and  very 
wet;  but  the  thrill  you  get  when  they  all  open  up  on  the 
line  at  once,  and  just  in  the  very  spot  where  you  have 
known  they  would  for  weeks  ahead!  Well,  it's  here  again 


170  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

at  last,  and  another  season  is  on,  so  sit  down  in  your  saddle 
and  keep  his  head  straight." 

My  first  day  of  the  season  was  with  the  Cheshire,  on 
August  ipth. 

Frank  Dare  brought  out  a  mixed  pack  of  twenty-seven 
couples.  The  most  hospitable  Master,  Mr.  Kerr,  and  my- 
self constituted  the  field.  The  wood  which  hounds  drew 
was  full  of  cubs.  We  viewed  them  in  all  directions,  and  af- 
ter an  hour  and  a  half  of  very  interesting  work,  went  in. 

The  season  at  Radnor  opened  on  September  ist,  and, 
barring  some  dry  weather  in  October,  the  prospects  were 
most  promising. 

Will  Leverton  brought  out  a  beautiful  young  entry  that 
went  to  their  work  in  pretty  good  style.  Some  of  them 
were  a  bit  riotous  at  times;  but  what  puppies  are  not, 
when  tempted  by  a  nice  fat  bunny  running  in  front  of 
them? 

Saturday,  gth  October,  1920 

FOR  a  cubbing  morning  and  a  seven  o'clock  meet  up- 
country,  there  was  quite  a  fair-sized  field  out,  thirty-five,  I 
counted  one  time,  but  not  at  the  end  of  the  very  nice 
twenty-three  minutes'  gallop,  I  assure  you. 

After  drawing  the  Hawthorne  and  several  other  coverts 
blank,  hounds  picked  up  a  cold  and  spotty  line  in  Lock- 
wood's  Hollow,  and,  working  it  with  great  difficulty,  car- 
ried it  with  several  bursts  of  music  to  Cathcart's  Rocks, 
where  they  swung  sharply  left-handed  and  went  away  at 
good  pace  with  one  hound  quite  far  out  in  the  lead,  across 
the  Seventy-Six  Farm  into  Lockwood's,  then  through  the 
Delmas  lane  and  over  the  White  Horse  Road  into  Innes's 
Wood,  to  Brooks's,  throwing  it  up  near  the  du  Pont  barns 
at  Centre  Square.  Every  one  was  dripping,  including  the 
horses,  and  all  had  had  enough. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  171 

It  was  the  first  time  this  season  that  there  had  been 
what  one  might  call  a  representative  Radnor  field  out, 
including  W.  Plunket  Stewart,  M.F.H.  Cheshire,  giving 
my  "Locust  Grove"  a  beautiful  ride;  Benjamin  Chew  on 
"Oviate";  Mrs.  Sharp  on  the  Master  of  Hawthorne's  pet, 
"  Michael' ' ;  John  Converse  on  a  green  one, "  Randy"  Snow- 
den;  Gardner  Cassatt  on  "Grey master";  Frank  Lloyd  on 
"Sherry";  Miss  Heckscher;  Bob  Strawbridge;  Miss  Straw- 
bridge,  whose  horse,  unfortunately,  went  down  in  a  blind 
ditch  and  put  her  out  of  it  at  the  start;  Brose  Clark  on  a 
black  thoroughbred;  William  Carter;  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt 
on  her  "Lord  Salisbury";  William  M.  Kerr,  riding  a  lovely 
brown  green  one,  and  his  solemn  nephew  going  like  a  vet- 
eran; Thornton  Baker;  and  Miss  Alex.  Dolan. 

A  few  of  us  had  breakfast  at  the  kennels,  hurrying  on 
home  for  an  early  luncheon  before  the  White  Marsh  Races 
in  the  afternoon,  which  barring  the  long  delays  between 
events,  was  quite  top-hole;  then  a  good  many  of  us  met 
again  at  dinner  after  the  races  at  Dick  Cadwalader's  at 
Camp  Hill,  making  altogether  a  first-class  sporting  day. 

Thursday,  2ist  October,  1920 

WITH  a  thick  blanket  of  fog  obscuring  the  whole  country- 
side, hounds  were  held  at  the  meet  at  Miss  Heckscher's 
this  morning  for  a  few  minutes  beyond  the  scheduled  six 
o'clock. 

The  air  and  everything  else  was  saturated  with  moisture, 
scent  held  like  a  charm,  and  hounds  fairly  ran  their  legs 
off;  but,  go  as  fast  as  they  could,  they  could  n't  catch  the 
Brooks's  Wood  fox,  even  if  he  did  stay  above  ground  forty- 
five  minutes,  which  is  ten  minutes  longer  than  he  ever  did 
before. 

To-day,  hounds  ran  him  from  Brooks's  to  Innes's  and 


172  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

back  around  the  same  circle  three  times,  finally  marking 
him  to  ground  on  the  hillside  of  Innes's  Wood. 

To  make  the  morning  quite  complete,  we  should  have 
dug  him  out  and  taught  this  cub  a  lesson.  However,  it  was 
a  pretty  satisfactory  morning;  every  one,  including  the 
horses,  had  a  good  sweat  and  one  was  home  in  time  for 
breakfast. 

MAN-O'-WAR 

2yd  October,  1920 

WITH  cubbing  in  the  early  morning,  Mrs.  J.  Gardner  Cas- 
satt's  breakfast  at  Kelso  at  twelve-thirty,  the  Rose  Tree 
Races  in  the  afternoon,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Riddle's  supper 
at  Glen  Riddle,  in  honor  of  "  Man-o'-War,"  in  the  evening, 
made  a  pretty  full  (but  not  the  kind  of  full  you  mean)  and 
most  enjoyable  sporting  day,  even  if  it  was  too  dry  for  any 
sort  of  a  run  with  hounds. 

Breakfast  on  the  terrace  at  Kelso  was  delightful;  the 
racing  quite  up  to  the  Rose  Tree  high  standard,  especially 
the  running  of  the  Rose  Tree  Plate,  which  brought  thirteen 
good,  cross-country  horses  before  the  starter,  including 
Mr.  Preece's  " Son-of-a-Gun,"  Gerry  Leiper's  "Ranger," 
Antelo  Devereux's  "  Semper  Fortis  "  and  "  Rose  of  Ireland," 
"Bill"  Clothier's  "Brosseau"  and  "Bill  Whaley,"  "Bint" 
Toland's  "Lakewood"  and  "Standpoint,"  Welsh  Straw- 
bridge's  "Riverbreeze,"  Strassburger's  "Wolferton  II," 
"Buzzy"  Smith's  "Irish  Heather,"  Ridgeway's  "Dooley," 
and  Nelson  Buckley's  "Duster." 

"Wolferton  II,"  with  Tommy  Wright  up,  finished  first, 
but  was  afterwards  disqualified  and  the  race  given  to 
"Dooley,"  with  second  money  to  "Brosseau." 

After  supper  at  Glen  Riddle,  and  after  every  one  had 
had  a  drink  from  "Man-o'- War's"  Canadian  Gold  Cup, 


Photograph  by  Harry  S.  H<x,,l 

Left  to  right:  R.  CLIFTON  LISLE,  ESQ.;  MISS  GERTRUDE  S.  HECK.SCHER 

ROBERT  E.  BROOKE,  ESQ. 
At  a  meet  of  the  Radnor  Hounds  at  Hawthorne  Farm,  December,  1920 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  173 

we  were  taken  to  the  garage  to  see  the  moving  pictures  of 
the  great  $75,000  match  race  with  Sir  Barton  at  Windsor. 
It  was  really  a  remarkable  picture,  and  altogether  so  en- 
joyable an  evening,  that  no  one  who  was  there  will  ever 
forget  it.  "  Man-o'- War's  "  name  is  carved  in  the  annals  of 
the  "  Sport  of  Kings  "  for  all  time,  and  written  in  the  minds 
of  our  present  generation  alongside  those  of  our  lovable 
host  and  hostess  of  Glen  Riddle. 

At  dinner  the  other  evening  I  asked  Mrs.  Cooke  (Amory 
Hare)  to  write  a  poem  for  my  journal,  and,  true  to  her.  fox- 
hunting form,  I  received  in  a  day  or  so  the  following  de- 
lightful bit  of  verse,  which,  no  doubt,  is  quite  the  piece  de 
resistance  of  this  humble  effort. 


THE  ROSE  TREE  MEETING,  1920 

0  WOULD  some  power  the  gift  bestow, 
To  see  ourselves  in  racing  season, 

As  to  the  meet  we  briskly  go, 
Though  one  might  often  ask  the  reason; 
For  I  will  prove  that  we  must  pay 
Time  well  for  parting  with  its  treasure  — 
The  twenty  minutes  of  the  day 
In  which  nags  gallop  for  our  pleasure. 
In  truth,  a  madness  must  descend 
Upon  those  persons  who  can  find 
Such  store  of  gladness  without  end, 
Such  strange  and  awful  peace  of  mind 
In  mud  and  cold  and  drifting  wet  — 
In  shivering  by  the  paddock  fence, 
Or  fighting  through  to  place  a  bet 
Lunchless  and  drinkless;  hasten  hence 
And  join  this  mad  and  happy  few 
In  their  pursuit  of  ecstasy  — 

1  '11  name  them  as  they  come  for  you, 
If  you  will  but  lend  your  courtesy. 

There's  "Stanley"  with  his  lacquered  legs, 
His  greyhounds  and  his  pearly  hats, 


174  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

His  tweeds  the  shade  of  scrambled  eggs; 
There's  "Chris"  with  muttons  swathed  in  spats 
These  two  come  earliest;  they  burn 
Tapers  before  Sir  Reynard's  shrine, 
Surtees  their  bible  is;  they  yearn 
Whene'er  they  hear  hound  puppies  whine. 

"Pray  what's  the  noise?"  "Oh,  that  is  Penn  — 
His  voice  defies  the  strongest  breeze, 
You'll  hear  again  and  yet  again, 
His  gruff  'Now,  gentlemen,  —  if  you  please! 
We  're  waiting  for  you  . . .  get  that  horse! . . . 
Can't  wait  all  day  —  You  should  have  weighed! 
Get  up  ...  and  come  down  to  the  course  — 
I  '11  show  you  how  this  game  is  played.' " 

"Who  comes  with  derby  neatly  poised 

Upon  an  ear?"  —  "Oh,  goodness,  gracious! 

Those  'hands'  have  many  a  'mouth'  rejoiced, 

That's  'telo  babying  'Rapacious'  — 

'Devy,'  our  very  own;  you  know 

We're  just  a  wee  bit  choked  with  pride 

About  you,  'Devy'  —  he  can  show 

A  horse's  best  in  any  ride; 

Sport's  safe  with  him.  There  are  a  lot 

Of  chaps  who  ride  as  straight  and  hard, 

Equally  horsemen,  like  as  not, 

Yet  Devy  somehow  takes  the  card." 

Here  comes  the  clan  from  out  the  West. 
They  know  the  things  worth  living  for; 
"Walter"  and  "Sara,"  simply  dressed, 
Nephew  and  niece  of  "Man-o'-War"; 
Followed  by  dear  old  Sam  and  his 
Whole-hearted,  kindly,  jolly  wife  — 
The  only  staunch  unfailing  "Liz" 
Who  could  have  shared  his  merry  life. 

And  now  they  come  so  fast,  I  hate 

To  say  what  my  acute  remorse  is  — 

Henceforth  you'll  differentiate 

'Twixt  names  of  men  and  names  of  horses 

With  difficulty.  Ne'ertheless 

I  '11  try  to  drop  a  hint  of  sorts 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  175 

Which  will  enable  you  to  guess 
What's  meant  in  this  the  king  of  sports. 

There  goes  "Bill  Whaley" —  pardon  me  — 

If  for  your  further  information 

I  add  here  somewhat  hastily, 

And  with  a  sense  of  perturbation, 

Bill's  not  that  chap  whose  legs  are  welding 

Themselves  into  the  saddle  flaps  — • 

He's  Billy  Clothier's  raty  gelding  — 

At  point-to-points  the  best  of  chaps. 

There's  Mr.  Hare:  I  do  not  mean 

To  be  facetious,  no,  nor  coy, 

Picturing  rabbits  on  the  green 

To  amuse  the  verdant  city  boy  — 

I  most  respectfully  refer 

To  him  whom  sportsmen  designate 

Master  of  Masters  —  briefly,  Sir, 

A  sort  of  hunting  potentate, 

Whose  followers  go  clad  in  pink 

And  rally  to  the  merry  horn; 

Who  hold  no  sound  more  sweet,  I  think, 

Than  "Lancer"  baying  in  the  corn. 

Ho,  't  was  a  sight  to  see  him  go 

With  such  a  level  well-matched  pack  — 

There  was  not  one  he  did  not  know; 

He'd  smile  down  from  his  gelding's  back 

And  hounds  smiled  back  at  him  with  eye* 

All  frank  and  fond,  their  sterns  afeather, 

Scenting  the  lovely  enterprise 

They  soon  would  set  afoot  together. 

Health  to  our  Horace,  "Mr.  Hare!" 
Two  masters  ably  followed  after  — 
You  '11  see  them  standing  over  there 
Under  that  bit  of  weathered  rafter: 
This  is  the  stable.   Big  Ben  Chew 
'  Is  talking  with  the  present  Master 
On  whether  "  Riverbreeze"  will  do, 
Or  "Wolferton"  is  really  faster. 

And  now  our  "Clarence"  joins  the  group 
To  tip  them  to  the  latest  hint 


176  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

That  "Lakewood  V  due  to  cook  their  soup 

According  to  his  owner  "Bint." 

"Bint  V  always  due  to  win,  you  know, 

"  If  only  the  old  horse  stays  in  "  — 

The  cunning  nag  can  really  go, 

And  yet  somehow  the  others  win, 

And  friends  walk  o'er  the  darkened  course 

In  search  of  "Bint"  who's  apt  to  be 

Bloodied  a  bit,  but  with  his  horse 

Beneath  some  spreading  chestnut  tree. 

Speaking  of  "Clarence"  —  there  's  a  chap! 
He  never  starts,  I  think,  without 
Well-wishes  and  the  friendly  clap 
Of  hands  he  knows;  and  there  's  a  shout 
Of  sheer  delight  when  "Ruskin"  wins. 
The  pair  of  them  go  well  and  straight. 
There  by  the  stall  against  the  bins, 
Where  "  Riverbreeze  "  receives  in  state, 
Stands  Welsh  his  owner,  trainer,  jock. 
It  warms  the  heart  to  think  of  them  — 
I've  seen  them  take  full  many  a  knock, 
In  many  a  racing  day's  surprise. 
They'll  wear  the  sportsman's  diadem, 
If  racing  's  known  in  Paradise. 

See  how  they  swarm!  Let's  get  along 
And  hang  upon  the  rail.    'T  is  merry 
Watching  the  busy,  bustling  throng. 
Lord!  What  a  tribe!  There's  Bill  and  Gerry 
Beside  old  "Wolferton."  You'll  see 
Owners  and  entries:  sires  and  dams; 
That  wee  thing  there  is  Frances  D; 
There's  Amory  with  her  Sealyhams; 
The  former  is  as  blythe  a  lass 
A.S  ever  wore  an  Easter  bonnet; 
The  latter  loves  a  horse:  but  pass  — 
That  flag-pole  with  the  bunting  on  it 
Shows  where  they'll  run.   Lord,  what  a  day! 
Look  how  they  step  —  the  colts,  I  mean  — 
Ah,  there,  they're  off,  and  well  away  — 
How  bright  the  jackets  'gainst  the  green! 
Come  on,  you  bay  horse!  What  a  crack! 
Oh,  Welsh  is  over!  "Riverbrtezf!" 
Safe  as  a  church!  He's  caught  the  black  — 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  177 

Lord,  what  a  pace!  He'll  break  his  knees  — 
Ouch!  There,  I  knew  it!  "Lakewood  V  come 
A  beastly  cropper;  clear  the  course! 
Gad,  how  I  love  that  rhythmic  drum 
Of  hoofs  —  Ah!  —  Watch  him!   There  's  a  horse! 
Lord,  what  a  jump!   Come  on!  Oh,  ride  — 
Ride,  you  two  beggars!  Head  to  head, 
Boot-leg  to  boot-leg,  stride  for  stride  — 

O  Lord,  make  me  a.  thoroughbred! 


THE  FOXHALL  FARM  CUP 

Saturday,  October  $Qth,  1920 

EVER  since  Sam  Riddle  decided  not  to  race  "Man-o'-War" 
any  more,  the  one  topic  of  conversation  among  the  sport- 
ing fraternity  has  been  Foxie  Keene's  great  race  inHarford 
County  for  teams  of  three  horses  representing  the  various 
Hunts. 

It  was  a  great  race  and  a  most  delightful  sporting  tour 
that  a  good  many  of  us  made  from  here  by  motor  on  the 
Friday  before;  and  the  hospitality  of  the  Harford  Hunt, 
where  most  of  us  (forty-nine,  to  be  exact)  were  put  up  by 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Valentine,  was  unsurpassed. 

How  they  did  it,  I  don't  see,  but  everybody  had  a  bed 
and  everybody  was  happy;  even  though  some  were  cold, 
none  were  frozen.  There  was  also  that  good  old  combina- 
tion of  Wine,  Woman,  and  Song,  but  I  should  say  song 
predominated,  although  there  was  wine  and  woman  in 
plenty;  but  I  'm  a  bit  off  my  track,  as  I  started  to  tell  about 
the  race,  and  not  tales  out  of  school. 

However,  after  walking  the  course  on  Saturday  morning 
and  admiring  the  beauties  of  it  and  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, and  after  a  very  big  luncheon  at  the  Club,  we  motored 
back  to  Foxhall  Farm  for  the  great  event. 

The  parade  to  the  post  was  most  impressive;  never  was 


178  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

there  a  prettier  sight,  or  never  were  there  twenty- four 
better  turned-out  men,  or,  I  believe,  twenty-four  better 
hunters  in  a  race.  Mr.  Jim  Maddox,  the  starter,  sent  them 
off  on  their  journey  in  great  style;  but  it  was  a  short  jour- 
ney for  some  of  them,  for  five  went  down  at  the  first  fence, 
not  one  of  whom  was  able  to  get  up  and  go  on  again.  An- 
telo  Devereux,  on  "Semper  Fortis,"  and  Brose  Clark,  on 
"Warwick,"  were  pretty  badly  hurt  at  this  jump,  while 
their  companions  in  misery  were  Mr.  Ridgeway,  on 
"Dooley,"  Andy  Porter,  on  "Orlando,"  and  one  of  Fox- 
hall  Keene's  entries.  The  heaviest  casualties,  fortunately, 
were  over;  but  it  seemed  that  nearly  every  fence  took  its 
toll,  especially  of  those  who  were  setting  much  of  a  pace, 
for  the  fences  were  stiff  and  new,  and  four  miles  and  a  half, 
carrying  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds,  is  no  idle 
dream  to  negotiate;  but  six  horses  finished  without  a  fall. 
Ralph  B.  Strassburger's  "  Wolferton  II,"  one  of  the  White 
Marsh  team,  and  wonderfully  ridden  by  Willie  Flem- 
ing, finished  first;  but  our  Radnor  team,  composed  of 
George  Brooke  III,  on  Nelson  Buckley's  "Duster,"  Walter 
Stokes,  riding  Miss  Gertrude  Heckscher's  "Sam  Ball," 
and  "Roddy"  Wanamaker,  on  John  Converse's  "Win- 
gate,"  was  the  only  one  to  have  all  three  finish,  thereby 
winning  the  $5000  Foxhall  Vase,  and,  I  must  confess, 
much  to  the  astonishment  of  every  one  from  Radnor. 
Their  good  judgment  and  horsemanship  and  quietness  did 
the  trick.  They  did  as  they  were  told,  and  did  it  well,  and 
too  much  credit  cannot  be  given  them. 

The  White  Marsh  team  was  quite  the  favorite  and 
looked  a  winner  when  "Wolferton"  came  in  first,  with 
Clarence  Kline  on  "Ruskin,"  a  good  third;  but  "Bint" 
Toland  came  to  grief  on  the  top  of  the  hill  the  last  time 
around  and  could  not  finish.  The  other  teams,  represent- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  179 

ing  Harford,  Rockaway,  Elkridge,  Meadow  Brook,  Picker- 
ing, and  Cheshire,  had  only  one  or  two  horses  up  at  the 
finish.  Thirteen  horses  finished,  all  told,  seven  of  whom 
had  been  down,  and  one  of  those  three  times. 

The  injuries  to  Devereux  and  Clarke  put  sort  of  a  crimp 
in  the  tea-party  after  the  race;  but  by  dinner-time  Dr. 
Jim  Hutchinson  reported  his  patients  out  of  danger,  so 
every  one  felt  in  better  spirits  and  more  able  to  enjoy  the 
hospitality  of  Foxhall  Farm. 

Among  t?he  others  from  home  at  the  race  were:  Mr. 
Bodine,  M.F.H.,  Radnor,  very  busy  receiving  congratu- 
lations; Mr.  Beale;  the  Misses  Cassatt;  John  and  Mrs. 
Converse,  but  John  had  a  tummy  ache  and  did  n't  enjoy 
himself  much;  Frank  Lloyd,  who  enjoyed  himself  im- 
mensely; W.  Plunket  Stewart;  Ned  Ilsley;  Buck,  Bill,  and 
Mrs.  Clothier;  Eddie  Cheston;  Hunter  Lucas;  Gerry  and 
Mrs.  Leiper;  Mrs.  Henry;  Miss  Gertrude  Heckscher;  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Edward  Brooke;  and  Mrs.  Devereux. 


OPENING  DAY 

Saturday,  6th  November,  1920 

NEVER  mind  how  many  days'  cubbing  one  has  had  in  the 
early  season,  there  is  always  that  mysterious  something 
that  makes  the  opening  fixture  of  the  regular  hunting  sea- 
son a  day  of  thrills  and  great  expectations;  and  it  is 
particularly  unfortunate  and  discouraging  for  the  hard- 
worked  M.F.H.  should  his  hounds  draw  blank,  as  they  did 
to-day.  There  was  not  a  whimper  all  day  long.  Yes,  there 
was,  too,  one  hound  did  speak  in  Brooks's  Wood,  quite 
early  in  the  day.  He  spoke,  but  that  was  all;  and  the  field 
of  over  eighty  had  a  long  ride  around  the  countryside, 
discussing  several  choice  bits  of  gossip  and  "cussing" 


i8o  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

several   other   things  which   don't  look  well  on  paper. 

Whoever  and  whatever  may  have  been  discussed  or 
"cussed,"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charlton  Yarnall  saved  the  other- 
wise stupid  day  by  having  a  most  delightful  breakfast  at 
their  charming  Crum  Creek  Farm  on  our  return  from  our 
foxless  quest.  Never,  no,  never,  has  a  Radnor  field  eaten 
more  delicious  food,  and,  despite  the  Volstead  Act,  no  one 
went  home  thirsty;  so  all 's  well  that  ends  well. 

Among  the  eighty  out  were:  S.  Laurence  Bodine, 
M.F.H.;  the  President,  Mr.  Beale;  Ben  Chew  on  his  fav- 
orite "Oviat,"  John  Converse  on  "Wingate,"  one  of  Rad- 
nor's team  that  won  the  Foxhall  Farm  Cup  a  week  ago; 
Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Miss  Barclay  on  "Sandy"; 
Miss  Cassatt  on  "Seven- to-One";  Radcliffe  Cheston;  Al- 
fred Biddle;  Miss  Brown,  of  Baltimore,  riding  a  colt  of 
Frank  Lloyd's;  R.  Nelson  Buckley;  Bill  Rolin;  John  Sulli- 
van; Mr.  Yarnall;  Alec  and  Mrs.  Yarnall;  Miss  Eugenia 
Cassatt  on  "Lord  Salisbury";  Mr.  Kelso;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
William  C.  Lowe,  of  New  York;  Robert  Brooke,  of  Birds- 
boro,  on  "Water  Wagon";  Clarence  M.  Kline  on  "Rus- 
kin";  Ben  Holland;  Mrs.  Victor  C.  Mather;  Randy  Snow- 
den;  Willie  and  Mrs.  du  Pont;  Hector  McNeal  and  Miss 
McNeal;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp;  and  Bunny  on  a  very  nice 
chestnut  pony;  Walter  and  Mrs.  Roach;  W.  Hinckle 
Smith  on  a  beautiful  chestnut  colt  of  his  own  raising; 
Henry  L.  Collins;  Miss  Gertrude  Conway  on  "Marie"; 
and  Harry  Barclay  on  a  brown  mare. 

BROMALL 

Thursday,  nth  November,  1920 

IT  had  been  years  and  years  since  Radnor  hounds  had 
drawn  Snakehouse  Wood,  and  this  afternoon,  after  work- 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  181 

ing  down-country  from  Bromall,  hounds  opened  with  a 
tremendous  roar  in  the  lower  side  of  Snakehouse,  raced 
through  the  wood,  crossed  the  Line  Road  and  met  the 
Rose  Tree  pack  head  on;  then  the  two  packs  joined  forces, 
and,  after  recrossing  the  road  into  the  wood,  finally  gave 
it  up  on  the  upper  side  in  a  wheat-field.  Personally,  I 
think  our  hounds  were  running  heel  on  Rose  Tree's 
hunted  fox,  and,  when  the  two  packs  met,  Radnor  hounds 
realized  their  mistake  and  came  back  with  the  Rose  Tree. 
They  had  out  thirty  couples,  while  we  had  seventeen,  so 
the  music  of  the  combination  was  well  worth  hearing. 

From  here,  after  many  "how-de-do's,"  etc.,  hounds 
were  taken  to  the  lower  Broadlawn  Farm,  where  they  im- 
mediately found,  and,  making  a  big  left-handed  circle,  the 
field  had  a  nice  view  of  their  fox  crossing  some  wheat; 
then,  sinking  the  valley  right-handed,  another  fox  evi- 
dently went  away,  the  pack  dividing  with  most  of  the 
field  following  the  lot  that  went  up-country.  Two  men 
shooting  rabbits  viewed  our  fox  crossing  the  creek  at  the 
covered  bridge  in  Trimble's  Hollow,  and  hounds,  being  at 
fault  a  moment,  quickly  cast  themselves,  and  swimming 
the  creek,  gave  a  good  gallop  along  the  stream  to  the  Dun- 
woody  Home,  then  left-handed  over  the  creek  again,  when 
Mrs.  Charlie  Munn  came  to  grief,  followed  a  moment 
later  by  Charlie,  on  "Peter  Grey,"  who  turned  upside 
down  in  the  rocky  meadow* 

In  the  next  field  we  viewed  our  fox  fairly  flying  down 
the  hillside,  and,  crossing  the  meadow,  went  to  earth 
on  the  edge  of  Castle  Rock.  Reynard  must  have  met  a 
friend  in  his  house,  or  else  he  was  waving  a  farewell  salute 
to  us,  for  he  left  his  brush  sticking  up  out  of  the  earth, 
waving  it  from  side  to  side,  and  only  pulled  it  in  when 
hounds  were  practically  at  the  earth. 


1 82  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

From  here  we  galloped  back  to  find  the  rest  of  the 
hounds,  and  another  man  out  shooting  put  us  straight 
again.  Hounds  owned  the  line  at  once,  caught  up  to  the 
second  division;  and,  after  a  couple  of  circles  around  the 
hills,  marked  their  second  fox  to  ground  on  the  hillside, 
just  above  the  creek,  and  across  from  Trimble's  Rocks. 

Besides  the  Master  of  Radnor  and  the  Master  of  Rose 
Tree,  there  were:  Mrs.  Jeffords,  of  Glen  Riddle;  Roy  Jack- 
son; Emanuel  Hey;  Ben  Chew;  Miss  Gertrude  Heckscher 
on  "Sam  Ball";  Isaac  H.  Clothier,  and  his  daughter  on  a 
pony;  Miss  Eugenia  Cassatt;  Mrs.  William  Foster  Reeve; 
Miss  Barclay;  John  Converse;  and  Cliff  Cheston. 


TWO  DAYS  WITH  THE  CHESHIRE  AND  ONE  WITH 
THE  BRAND  YWINE 


,  iSth  and  igth  November,  1920 
To  be  a  delightful  host  is  an  art  in  itself;  but  to  be  the 
Master  of  a  great  pack  of  hounds  as  well,  and  to  entertain 
a  large  house-party  of  foxhunters  for  four  consecutive 
weeks,  showing  sport  every  day,  is  an  achievement  very 
few  Americans  can  boast  of;  so  it  was  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  that  I  accepted  the  Master  of  Cheshire's  kind 
invitation  to  pass  the  week  with  him  at  Brooklawn. 

Unfortunately,  I  was  only  able  to  be  there  three  days, 
Monday,  Thursday,  and  Friday,  and,  on  arriving  Sunday 
afternoon,  found  my  horses  most  comfortably  quartered 
at  the  Unionville  Inn,  and,  proceeding  on  to  Brooklawn, 
passed  a  delightful  evening. 

On  Monday  morning  hounds  met  at  Chesterland  gate  at 
nine  o'clock,  Frank  Dare  bringing  out  a  mixed  pack  of 
twenty-three  couples  of  as  nice-looking  hounds  as  ever  ran 
a  fox. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  183 

The  covert  below  Chesterland  was  blank,  as  was  the 
quarry  across  the  road;  but,  just  as  hounds  were  entering 
the  wood  directly  back  of  the  kennel,  John  Converse  said, 
"I  guess  I  '11  go  to  the  corner  of  the  wood  and  view  this 
fox  away."  The  words  were  hardly  spoken  than  a  splendid 
big  fox  broke  covert  and  went  sailing  across  the  valley. 
Hounds  owned  the  line  at  once,  and,  settling,  took  us  over 
a  beautiful  line  of  country  at  good  pace  for  about  eight 
minutes,  when  scent  became  very  catchy,  and  hounds  were 
put  to  their  noses  for  the  rest  of  the  morning,  finally  ending 
up  in  the  Laurels,  where  it  is  next_to  impossible  to  get  a 
fox  straightened  out. 

Scent  improved  wonderfully  after  lunch,  and,  getting 
our  second  horses  at  Brooklawn  at  two-thirty,  found  at 
once  in  Matson's  Wood,  hounds  giving  us  a  really  splendid 
twenty  minutes,  pushing  their  fox  to  earth,  in  a  briar  patch 
on  a  hillside. 

On  Thursday,  the  I9th,  we  hunted  with  the  Brandy- 
wine,  meeting  at  the  Lenape  School  House  at  nine-thirty, 
Thompson  bringing  out  a  beautiful  pack  of  twenty-one 
and  a  half  couples,  with  the  Misses  Mather  in  command. 

The  first  draw  was  Huey's  Wood,  where  hounds  spoke 
at  once,  and,  viewing  our  fox  away,  ran  south  crossing  the 
Unionville  Road  through  Denton's  Hollow  and  on  to  Tay- 
lor's Thicket,  where  scent  became  very  catchy,  hounds 
owning  it  here  and  there,  but  working  it  splendidly,  carried 
it  on  for  some  time,  finally  giving  it  up.  Just  then  Jack 
Potter  viewed  another  fox  on  Huey's  Farm,  and  Thomp- 
son, galloping  his  hounds  to  the  view,  put  them  on,  but 
this  turned  out  to  be  a  circling  chap,  and,  after  making 
three  rings  around  the  wood,  hounds  were  whipped  off  and 
we  started  up-country.  But  we  were  no  sooner  on  our  way 
than  hounds  spoke  to  a  line  in  the  Marlborough  Bottoms, 


184  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

and,  scent  seeming  to  improve  wonderfully,  for  the  next 
hour  and  twenty  minutes  we  had  as  nice  a  run  and  over  as 
lovely  a  country  as  it  has  ever  been  my  privilege  to  enjoy. 

I  wish  I  was  more  familiar  with  this  splendid  section  of 
Chester  County  so  that  I  might  give  in  more  detail  some 
of  the  charm  of  this  delightful  run;  but  I  am  not.  At  any 
rate,  hounds  raced  away  after  their  fox  through  that  su- 
perb Northbrook  country  to  Wawasset,  Locust  Grove,  and 
Corinne,  and  finally  to  the  big  Marlborough  Woods  again, 
where  scent  became  catchy,  and,  hounds  and  horses  having 
had  enough,  we  went  in. 

We  jogged  back  to  Unionville,  had  a  nip  of  excellent 
port  in  the  old  wagon-shed,  then  motored  to  Brandywine 
Meadow  Farms  for  a  late  but  delicious  luncheon  with  the 
Misses  Mather. 

The  others  in  the  party  were:  the  Master  of  the  Cheshire; 
the  Master  of  Radnor;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Antelo 
and  Mrs.  Devereux;  Mrs.  Henry;  John  and  Mrs.  Converse; 
Mr.  Kerr;  and  Govey  Cadwalader. 

Friday  morning  the  Cheshire  met  at  Brooklawn;  foxes 
were  plentiful  and  were  viewed  from  every  covert,  but 
there  was  not  a  vestige  of  scent;  but  in  the  afternoon,  af- 
ter some  of  us  had  come  in,  conditions  changed  and  those 
who  had  stayed  out  were  rewarded  by  forty  minutes  of  the 
very  best. 

Wednesday,  2^th  November,  1920 

WHETHER  it  was  n't  generally  known  that  hounds  were 
going  out  to-day,  or  not,  I  don't  know;  but,  be  that  as  it 
may,  only  Frank  Lloyd,  on  his  bay  mare,  "War  Baby," 
and  I  turned  up  at  the  kennels  for  the  meet  this  morning 
at  eleven  o'clock,  so  we  had  things  all  to  ourselves;  and,  af- 
ter drawing  the  Hospital  Farm  blank,  hounds  went  away 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  185 

with  a  tremendous  roar  from  the  little  lake  on  Mr.  Earle's 
driveway,  and,  pushing  up  over  the  hill,  circled  back  left- 
handed  to  the  Goshen  Road,  where  they  were  at  fault. 

In  galloping  out  Mr.  Earle's  drive,  I  met  our  fox  coming 
down  the  road  at  the  driveway  entrance.  We  both  stopped, 
looked  at  each  other  a  moment,  but  neither  of  us  spoke, 
and  Mr.  Fox  then  popped  into  the  shrubbery  on  the  side  of 
the  road. 

Will  Leverton  brought  hounds  immediately  to  my  hol- 
loa, and,  owning  it  at  once,  we  had  a  delightful  hunting  run 
on  over  the  hill  to  Yarnall's  Hollow,  crossed  the  Wyola 
Road  into  Mr.  John  Brown's,  then  up  the  road  to  the  cor- 
ner, into  Happy  Creek,  on  up  the  big  meadows,  and  left- 
handed  to  the  Railroad  Farm,  where,  turning,  hounds 
fairly  flew  back  down-country  and  marked  their  fox  to 
ground  in  Yarnall's  Hollow,  after  a  most  enjoyable  hour 
and  twenty  minutes. 

Thanksgiving  Day,  1920 

PRACTICALLY  the  whole  countryside  turned  out  to-day,  de- 
spite the  raw  wind,  for  the  annual  events  at  Radnor;  and, 
aside  from  the  racing,  the  great  event  of  the  day  was 
the  jumping  match  between  Sam  Riddle's  "  Bally  Heather" 
and  Isaac  Clothier's  "King  Daly"  for  $500  a  side.  It  was 
really  most  impressive,  and  there  was  absolute  silence  when 
Isaac  Clothier  started  around  the  course.  Barring  a  re- 
fusal crossing  the  lane,  he  made  a  beautiful  performance, 
but  when  Cull,  riding  "  Bally  Heather,"  started  out,  it  was 
quite  noticeable  at  once  that  their  performance  was  going 
to  be  well  worth  seeing  and  remembering.  Never  have  I 
seen  so  finished  an  exhibition;  and  when  Cull  pulled  up  at 
the  end  of  his  journey,  there  was  no  doubt  in  any  one's 
mind  what  the  result  would  be.  Roy  Jackson,  the  Judge, 


1 86  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

immediately  gave  the  award  to  "Bally  Heather/'  amid 
much  cheering  and  applause.  It  was  most  impressive. 

Previous  to  this,  there  was  the  pony  jumping  for  the 
younger  generation,  which  was  won  by  little  Miss  Cath- 
arine Clothier's  "Cocoa,"  with  Miss  Doris  Stewart's 
"Circus  Girl"  a  very  good  second. 

The  big  jumping  class  was  won  by  Walter  Stokes,  rid- 
ing W.  Hinckle  Smith's  "Loyal,"  one  of  his  own  breeding, 
and  by  Dave  Sharp's  "Master  of  Craft." 

The  sixth  running  for  Lieutenant-Colonel  J.  Franklin 
McFadden's  Radnor  Valley  Farm  Challenge  Cup  brought 
five  horses  to  the  post,  "Wolferton  II,"  "Lakewood," 
"Brosseau,"  "Bill  Whaley,"  and  "Riverbreeze." 

Harry  Barclay  started  them  nicely  on  their  journey,  and 
all  went  along  merrily  until  the  third  jump,  when  "  Bros- 
seau" decided  he  had  had  enough  and  stopped.  Tommy 
Wright,  on  "Wolferton,"  was  leading  the  field  the  last  time 
around,  but  missed  the  eighteenth  fence,  carrying  "Bill 
Whaley"  with  him,  and,  before  they  could  pull  up  and 
get  between  the  flags,  "Bint"  Toland,  on  "Lakewood," 
and  Welsh  Strawbridge,  riding  "Riverbreeze,"  had  gained 
such  a  lead  that  they  couldn't  be  caught,  "Lakewood" 
winning  from  "Riverbreeze"  by  a  couple  of  lengths. 

The  last  race  of  the  day,  for  the  Master's  Cup,  was 
quite  the  best  from  a  racing  point  of  view.  Seven  horses 
started,  Joe  Ewing's  "Red  Wing,"  "Bint"  Toland's 
"Stand  Point,"  Hinckle  Smith's  "Royal,"  Huntingdon 
Valley  Farm's  "Indian  Desert"  and  "Whirlwind,"  Clar- 
ence Kline's  "Ruskin,"  and  Nelson  Buckley's  "Duster." 
Joe  Ewing  and  "Red  Wing"  parted  company  at  the  third 
fence;  but  it  was  a  very  pretty  race  to  watch;  the  field  were 
together  all  the  time;  Clarence  Kline,  on  "Ruskin,"  win- 
ning by  a  half-length. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  187 

Following  the  racing,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  McFadden  gave 
a  most  delightful  luncheon  at  their  Radnor  Valley  Farm, 
and  at  three  o'clock  the  hounds  met  at  the  kennels.  But 
the  weather-man  went  back  on  us  by  this  time;  neverthe- 
less, about  twenty  of  the  braver  ones  ventured  out  in  the 
rain,  and  the  Yarnall's  Hollow  fox  had  enough  sporting 
blood  to  defy  the  weather-man,  giving  hounds  a  good  fast 
run  up-country  to  the  Railroad  Farm. 

Some  of  the  questions  asked  during  the  day  were: 

If  a  certain  M.F.H.  has  named  the  vixen  that  his 
hounds  find  in  Brooks's  Wood,  "Lucy  Glitters,"  what  is 
the  name  of  the  dog  fox  in  Innes's  Wood? 

If  one  of  Stanley  Reeve's  greyhounds  can  run  faster  than 
one  of  Plunket  Stewart's  foxhounds,  how  fast  a  dog  is 
"Wolferton"?  Ask  Devy. 

Whose  aesthetic  sense  of  color  selected  vivid  purple 
badges  for  the  Patrol  Judges  to  wear  on  their  scarlet  coats 
during  the  races? 

Why  do  they  call  a  certain  very  fascinating,  foxhunting 
lady  "Lucy  Glitters"? 

Saturday,  zjth  November,  1920 

As  one  sits  before  the  fire  and  thinks  over  the  pictures  that 
come  before  one's  mind  of  the  day's  happenings  in  the 
hunting-field,  it's  strange  how  deep  an  impression  on  one's 
mind  is  made  by  a  fitting  setting  for  a  hunting-scene. 

The  meet  at  Kelso  this  morning  made  a  particularly 
pleasing  picture,  especially  if  one  was  out  by  the  iron  fence 
and  sort  of  looking  down  on  the  scene.  The  "Chateau,"  as 
Miss  Gertrude  deCoppet  used  to  call  it,  was  looking  its 
best  as  the  background  for  the  Radnor  M.F.H.  and  his 
well-turned-out  staff  and  field  of  over  seventy,  about  a 
dozen  of  whom  were  in  scarlet.  A  scarlet  coat  may  not 


i88  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

make  a  foxhunter;  but  say  what  you  may,  it  does  add  a  bit 
of  picturesqueness  to  the  scene. 

The  fox  in  the  Waynesboro  Swamp  was  not  at  home,  but 
the  old  faithful  Malvern  Barrens  produced  a  stout  one  that 
most  of  us  viewed  away  when  hounds  were  on  the  upper 
side  of  covert.  They  came  out  on  his  line  with  a  beautiful 
cry,  and,  taking  us  over  a  fairish  flight  of  bars  in  a  lane  out 
to  the  Sugartown  Road,  we  had  a  gallop  over  the  road 
through  Sugartown  and  down  to  the  burned  Klemm  Farm, 
where  hounds  made  quite  an  out.  Here  Charles  was  viewed 
again,  hounds  carrying  a  good  scent  into  the  upper  side  of 
Fairy  Hill,  then,  swinging  sharply  right-handed,  worked 
it  out  slowly  over  some  wheat  to  the  road,  where  scent 
improved  and  we  moved  along  at  a  good  pace  to  the 
wood  back  of  Miss  Hook's,  then  right-handed  again, 
and  north  to  the  George  Saportas  Farm,  to  Mr.  Cox's, 
where  some  new  wire  gave  hounds  a  bit  of  trouble,  and 
slowly  from  there  on  back  to  the  Barrens,  where  three 
wild  geese  flew  over  our  heads,  just  as  hounds  gave  it 
up,  after  an  hour  and  twenty-two  minutes  of  very  nice 
work. 

Every  one  was  delighted  to  see  the  "Duke"  and  Mrs. 
Saportas  out  with  us  again,  as  it  was  Betty's  first  appear- 
ance at  Radnor  in  several  years;  and  Uncle  Joe  was  going 
strong  as  of  old. 

Among  the  others  were:  John  and  Mrs.  Converse;  Ben, 
David,  and  Oswald  Chew;  Miss  Cassatt;  Miss  Alex.  Dolan; 
Buck;  Frank  Lloyd;  Gardner  Cassatt;  Arthur  Meigs; 
Harry  Barclay;  Mr.  Kelso;  Ben  Holland;  Bill  Evans  and 
son;  Randy  Snowden;  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins,  Dave  and 
Mrs.  Sharp  and  Bunny;  Charlie  Harrison;  Alfred  Biddle; 
and  Walter  and  Stanley  Stokes. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  189 

Saturday,  i8th  December,  1920 

IF  there 's  one  place  in  the  world  where  the  head  must  be  an 
optimist,  it's  the  job  of  being  an  M.F.H.;  and  to  feel  any- 
where near  the  top  or  able  to  smile  when  some  one  says 
good-morning  to  you,  after  having  had  a  whole  string  of 
blank  days  in  a  row  —  well,  it  takes  a  foxhunter  to  do  it, 
that's  all. 

It  was  another  of  those  cold,  windy,  blue-nosed  sort 
of  mornings,  when  hounds  met  at  Sugartown  at  eleven 
o'clock,  and  about  seventy  of  the  faithful  braved  the  ele- 
ments, but  inwardly  feeling  it  was  n't  much  use  trying  to 
find  a  fox,  it  was  so  windy  and  cold;  and  I  must  confess 
that  after  three  hours  of  it,  had  it  not  been  for  a  very 
fascinating,  dark-eyed  beauty,  mounted  on  a  once  cele- 
brated race-horse,  that  my  own  feeble  enthusiasm  might 
have  fizzed  out  before  the  real  business  of  the  day  began. 
But  being  hungry,  as  was  the  before-mentioned  fascinating, 
dark-eyed  one,  and  both  of  us  having  well-filled  sandwich 
cases,  we  decided  to  eat  our  lunch  together  on  the  sunny 
side  of  a  friendly  barn;  and,  keeping  hounds  more  or  less  in 
sight,  had  just  finished  our  sandwiches,  and  somewhat 
sheepishly  rejoined  the  field,  when  hounds  went  away  at 
top-speed  from  the  wood  back  of  Miss  Hook's,  and,  cross- 
ing the  Goshen  Road,  turned  sharply  left-handed  just  be- 
fore reaching  Button's  Mill,  raced  over  the  hill  into  Del- 
chester,  where  they  checked  a  moment  and  gave  some  of  us 
a  chance  to  catch  up;  then  a  wide  cast  by  Will  Leverton  on 
top  of  the  Delchester  Hill  put  them  right  again,  and,  cross- 
ing the  West  Chester  Pike,  hounds  swam  Ridley  Creek  and 
checked  a  moment  by  the  covered  bridge,  but,  picking  it  up 
in  the  road,  fairly  flew  on  to  Pickering's  Thicket,  on  through 
it  to  Hunting  Hill  and  down-country  to  the  meadow  below 
the  old  Rawle  Farm,  when  Reynard  evidently  did  n't  like 


i9o  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

the  idea  of  another  bath,  as  hounds  swung  sharply  left 
again,  right  at  the  water's  edge,  and,  running  up-stream, 
took  us  at  a  good  clip  back  over  practically  the  same 
ground  to  Delchester,  where  scent  apparently  failed  com- 
pletely; but  the  sixteen  who  had  braved  the  cold  and 
had  the  run  were  very  content  to  call  it  a  day  and  start  a 
long  nine-mile  hack  back  to  kennels. 

Among  those  out,  besides  the  Master,  were:  John  and 
Mrs.  Converse  and  Randy  Snowden ;  Miss  Gertrude  Heck- 
scher;  Bob  Strawbridge;  Harry  and  Miss  Barclay;  Miss 
Eugenia  Cassatt;  Nelson  Buckley;  Tommy  Wanamaker; 
Mrs.  Saportas  on  "Uncle  Joe";  Ben  Holland;  Max  Living- 
ston, Jr.;  Mr.  Beale;  Henry  Collins;  Dave  and  Mrs.  Sharp; 
and  Mrs.  Bill  Rolin,  riding  the  same  horse  that  caused  so 
much  excitement  the  other  day  at  the  joint  meet  with 
Pickering.  It  seems  her  horse  went  down  with  her  twice 
that  day,  and  after  the  second  crash  refused  to  move. 
Finally,  after  much  consultation  among  the  amateur  vets, 
and  after  every  known  and  unknown  method  of  persuasion 
had  been  used  to  get  it  on  its  feet  again,  with  no  result,  ex- 
cepting terrible  groans  from  the  poor  gee,  it  was  decided 
that  its  back  was  broken.  The  ladies  were  gently  told  to 
ride  on,  and  a  servant  was  despatched  in  great  haste  to  a 
neighboring  farmhouse  to  procure  a  gun  to  put  the  faith- 
ful beast  out  of  its  horrible  misery. 

The  question  then  arose  as  to  who  was  to  actually  do  the 
shooting.  No  one  seemed  to  volunteer;  brave  men  who  had 
but  recently  slain  multitudes  of  Boches  blanched  at  the 
very  thought;  fair  women  wept  and,  weeping,  rode  away; 
then  some  kind  soul,  to  make  the  pangs  of  death  less  severe, 
took  off  its  saddle  and  bridle,  whereupon,  it  immediately 
jumped  up,  and,  showing  a  clean  pair  of  heels,  raced  away, 
sans  bridle,  sans  saddle,  across  country  in  the  wake  of  the 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  191 

fast-disappearing  pack.  The  weeping  women  wept  no 
more;  the  brave  men  thanked  their  lucky  stars  that,  as 
yet,  no  Dry  Agents  have  pursued  their  calling  in  the  hunt- 
ing-field. 

Tuesday,  28th  December,  1920 

IF  Dave  Sharp  had  been  hunting  hounds  to-day,  and  if 
Harry  Harrison  was  his  whipper-in  once  more,  as  they 
were  in  the  good  old  days  of  John  Valentine's  regime  at 
Radnor,  I  'm  quite  sure  history  would  have  repeated  itself 
and  another  chapter  been  added  to  the  annals  of  foxhunt- 
ing in  Pennsylvania,  for  it  was  cold  enough  and  windy 
enough  to  congeal  that  unmentionable  part  of  the  anatomy 
of  the  proverbial  brass  monkey. 

As  the  brass  monkey  is  now  passS  and  Dave  Sharp  quite 
the  contrary,  I'll  try  to  tell  the  story  before  we  go  further 
with  the  doings  of  to-day. 

John  Valentine  did  n't  take  his  field  into  covert  with  his 
huntsman  and  hounds,  as  some  Masters  we  have  seen 
do,  but  kept  his  field  in  a  convenient  place  where,  should 
hounds  go  away,  they  could  get  to  them  by  the  time  hounds 
were  nicely  settled  on  the  line  of  their  fox.  Well,  on  this  par- 
ticularly cold  and  windy  day,  John  had  his  impatient  and 
shivering  field  on  a  hilltop  overlooking  a  certain  covert 
not  far  from  Malvern,  while  his  huntsman,  David,  and  his 
hounds  drew  the  wood.  No  fox  was  viewed  out  the  upper 
corner;  not  a  hound  spoke;  not  a  sound  was  heard;  and 
John  was  having  a  bit  of  trouble  keeping  some  of  his  more 
thrusting  followers  in  hand.  Fifteen  minutes,  half  an  hour, 
and  even  John  was  getting  cold  and  fidgety  by  now;  so  he 
sent  Harry  Barclay  into  covert  to  see  if  hounds  had  by  any 
chance  slipped  out  the  other  side  unseen.  But,  after  wait- 
ing another  fifteen  minutes  with  no  signs  even  of  Harry 


I92  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Barclay,  John,  very  solemnly  and  with  much  dignity, 
slowly  led  his  shivering  field  into  the  wood.  The  old  ride 
through  the  covert  was  pretty  well  grown  up,  but,  after 
pushing  their  way  along  for  a  couple  of  hundred  yards, 
they  came  to  the  edge  of  an  old  quarry,  and,  on  looking 
down  into  the  quarry  hole,  discovered  Dave  and  the  two 
Harry's  sitting  on  a  log,  peacefully  smoking  before  a  roar- 
ing fire,  surrounded  by  the  hounds  and  with  their  horses 
eating  grass  near  by. 

Modesty  forbids  me  to  tell  you  what  John  said;  but  the 
air  was  no  longer  cold  and  the  freezing  field  froze  no  more. 

The  Master  of  Hawthorne  was  not  hunting  hounds  to- 
day, but  we  all  nearly  froze  just  the  same,  until,  on  reach- 
ing the  upper  side  of  Yarnall's  Hollow,  when  hounds 
opened  up  on  the  line  of  a  stout  fox  in  the  good  old- 
fashioned  way. 

After  sinking  the  valley  and  skirting  the  lake,  hounds 
raced  over  the  hill  to  Mr.  Earle's  lawn,  and,  on  reaching  the 
hilltop  at  the  Howard  House,  swung  left-handed  over  the 
Darby  Creek,  and,  crossing  the  Creek  Road  into  Gough- 
acres,  went  on  into  the  Radnor  Valley  Farm,  giving  the 
field  a  lovely  gallop  halfway  around  the  steeplechase 
course  to  the  Ithan  Creek,  over  it  to  the  road,  where  Miss 
Ellen  Mary  Cassatt  made  a  most  spectacular  jump,  on  her 
"  Seven-to-One,"  over  the  high,  whitewashed,  plank  fence. 
Hounds  checked  a  moment  at  Mr.  McFadden's  corner, 
then  doubled  back,  and,  recrossing  the  Radnor  Valley 
Farm,  ran  with  a  breast-high  scent  through  Ardrosson  to 
the  Creek  Road  again,  where  our  first  whip,  Frank  Smith, 
came  a  very  nasty  cropper  in  jumping  into  the  road.  Ben 
Chew  and  I  stopped  with  Frank  a  few  minutes,  while  hounds 
raced  on  to  Yarnall's  Hollow  once  more.  We  caught  them 
on  top  of  the  hill,  when  Reynard  turned  up-wind,  and,  being 


MISS  GERTRUDE   S.  HECKSCHER  ON 
December,  1920 


SATURNUS 


Silhouette  by  the  Author 

MISS  ELLEN  MARY  CASSATT  ON 
1920 


SEVEN-TO-ONE 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  193 

viewed  again,  took  us  on  over  Mr.  John  Brown's  to  the  Old 
Mill,  on  through  the  Happy  Creek  Meadows  to  the  Patter- 
son place,  where  a  brace  of  terriers  mixed  things  up  a  bit; 
but,  casting  themselves,  the  pack  picked  up  the  line  across 
the  road  and  ran  with  a  wonderful  cry  to  the  old  wheel- 
wright shop,  where  the  Darby  Creek  crosses  the  Waterloo 
Road,  where  they  checked  on  the  hillside  and  could  not 
own  the  line  again. 

It  was  an  hour  and  a  quarter  of  quite  remarkable  hound 
work,  fast  enough  to  please  the  most  fastidious,  and  under 
conditions  that  more  than  one  of  the  old  stagers  said  was 
actually  marvellous.  One  most  popular  ex-Master  of  Rad- 
nor said  to  me,  as  we  were  galloping  side  by  side  over  the 
Happy  Creek  pastures,  "This  is  the  greatest  pack  of 
hounds  in  America  to-day";  and  I  agree  with  him  from 
start  to  finish.  Give  the  Radnor  hounds  half  a  chance  and 
they  will  show  you  sport  that  you  cannot  duplicate  in 
any  other  country  in  America.  And  speaking  of  countries 
—  where  is  there  one  in  which  there  is  less  wire  than  at 
Radnor?  As  Mr.  B.  would  say  —  "There  ain't  none!" 

Thursday,  ^oth  December,  1920 

SEVERAL  days  ago  Samuel  D.  Riddle  kindly  invited  all 
those  who  lunch  at  the  Foxhunters'  Table  at  the  Racquet 
Club,  to  go  out  with  the  Rose  Tree  hounds  this  afternoon 
and  stay  for  supper  afterward  at  the  Rose  Tree  Club. 
Every  one  accepted;  but  those  who  did  n't  come  really 
missed  one  of  the  best  occasions  of  the  kind  since  prohi- 
bition went  into  effect. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  charming  old  Club  House,  Wal- 
ter M.  Jeffords,  M.F.H.,  was  just  putting  out  the  black- 
board showing  which  coverts  were  to  be  drawn,  so  that 
late  arrivals  might  pick  hounds  up;  and  promptly  at  one- 


i94  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

thirty  he  moved  off,  taking  out  a  mixed  pack  of  thirty- 
seven  and  one-half  couples,  including  some  of  "Mr.  Rid- 
dle's hounds,"  which  were  given  to  the  Rose  Tree  a  couple 
of  seasons  ago,  and  among  whom  were  old  "Jerry,"  a  won- 
derful type  of  black-and-tan  hound,  but  who  is  beginning 
to  show  his  age,  being  now  very  grey  around  the  muzzle; 
then  there  was  "Stump,"  a  dock-tailed,  black  hound  that 
came  from  Virginia,  with  a  great  reputation  which  he  still 
maintains. 

A  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  lower  side  of  the  Lee- 
dom's  Mill  Wood,  and  Abner  Garrett,  huntsman,  galloped 
his  pack  to  the  view,  when  they  went  away  with  a  volume 
of  music  that  I  have  seldom  heard  equalled,  and  kept  up 
continuously  for  an  hour  and  forty-five  minutes.  Scent 
was  just  holding  enough  to  keep  hounds  on  their  noses  all 
the  time  and  make  galloping  alongside  of  them  quite  pos- 
sible. Crossing  the  Eagle  Road,  north  of  the  Lamb  Tavern, 
they  sank  the  valley  into  the  farm  Bill  Clothier  once 
had,  and,  crossing  the  Darby  Creek,  ran  practically  to  the 
Sixty-Ninth  Street  trolley  station,  where,  turning  back, 
they  came  with  the  same  beautiful  cry  through  the  Bon 
Air  Farms  to  the  creek  again,  over  it,  to  Moore's  Wood, 
and  to  the  Lawrence  Mills,  where  hounds  swung  sharply 
left-handed  at  the  Lawrence  Road,  and,  taking  us  to 
George  Mullins's,  turned  left  again  through  his  wood  back 
to  where  we  found,  and  on  around  a  slightly  smaller  circle, 
hounds  finally  marking  their  fox  to  earth  in  his  home  covert. 

The  pleasures  of  the  day  being  over,  we  hacked  back  to 
the  kennels  and  proceeded  to  enjoy  those  of  the  evening, 
which  started  immediately  on  our  arrival  and  continued 
through  a  most  delicious  dinner  and  well  into  the  night, 
being  accompanied  by  an  unusual  amount  of  singing  by 
our  host;  one  song  in  particular,  although  of  only  one  verse, 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  195 

and  not  especially  classical,  made  the  hit  of  the  evening. 
It  ran  something  like  this: 

"Around  her  neck  she  wore  a  yellow  ribbon, 
She  wore  it  in  the  summer-time  and  in  the  month  of  May, 
And  if  you  asked  her,  why  the  hell  she  wore  it, 
She  wore  it  for  her  Tnie  Love,  who  was  far,  far  away." 

Had  Mr.  Surtees  ever  had  a  day  with  the  Rose  Tree,  he 
would  certainly  have  added  one  more  to  his  already  won- 
derful list  of  hunting  characters.  "  Soapy  Sponge  "  or  "Fa- 
cey  Rumford"  never,  in  their  most  intoxicated  moments, 
excelled  the  actions  of  a  certain  highly  illuminated  Rose 
Tree  retainer  that  haunted  the  dining-room  all  evening. 

Among  those  hunting  and  at  the  supper  were:  Sam  and 
Mrs.  Riddle;  Walter  and  Mrs.  Jeffords;  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Gib- 
bon; Miss  Gertrude  Conway;  Miss  Welsh;  Walter  and  Mrs. 
Roach;  Dr.  James  P.  Hutchinson;  Roy  and  Miss  Jackson; 
Emanuel  Hey;  Alex,  and  Mrs.  Sellers;  Colonel  Glendining; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barklie;  Ivan  Fox;  Miss  Cohen;  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Samuel  Henderson;  Francis  V.  Lloyd;  William  M. 
Kerr;  Edward  Ilsley;  and  William  F.  Reeve. 

THE  DEATH  OF  "LUCY  GLITTERS" 

Tuesday,  qth  January,  1921 

SOMETIME  ago  in  this  journal  the  question  was  asked  — 
"If  a  certain  M.F.H.  has  named  the  vixen  that  his  hounds 
find  in  Brooks's  Wood,  "Lucy  Glitters,"  what  is  the  name 
of  the  dog  fox  in  Innes's  Wood  ? " 

The  question  has  also  been  asked  in  the  field,  and  as  for 
the  answers  —  well,  probably  discretion  is  the  better  part 
of  valor  after  all;  but  that  there  was  anaffairedecceur  be- 
tween the  auburn-haired  vixen  and  her  stalwart  neighbor 
seems  quite  evident;  at  any  rate,  she  was  visiting  her 


196  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

lover  to-day,  which  is  always  a  more  or  less  exciting  and 
dangerous  procedure  for  a  lady,  even  in  the  heart  of  the 
country. 

She  was  discovered,  tried  to  run  away,  and  paid  the 
price  of  her  indiscretions  with  her  life,  poor  dear. 

"The  wages  of  sin  is  death";  but  she  was  a  lady  and  a 
sportswoman,  and  perhaps  sinned  not  at  all.  Let's  give 
her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  and  allow  her  fair  name  to  be 
set  down  in  the  annals  of  foxhunting  as  unblemished  as 
that  of  the  dashing  Diana  for  whom  she  was  christened. 

Flirt  though  she  was,  she  was  viewed  away,  and,  with  a 
defiant  whisk  of  her  beautiful  brush,  sailed  out  the  upper 
side  of  her  lover's  home  covert,  with  hounds  racing  after 
her  over  the  plough,  then,  swinging  sharply  right-handed, 
crossed  the  White  Horse  Road  into  Mr.  Pepper's,  fairly 
flying  on  through  the  Delmas  Property  and,  keeping  Lock- 
wood's  Hollow  on  their  left,  crossed  the  Leopard  Road  into 
Baker's  Wood,  on  through  to  the  lower  pasture,  where 
scent  must  have  been  very  holding,  for,  with  a  beautiful 
cry,  hounds  raced  on  over  Baker's  Corner,  and,  sinking  the 
valley  into  Bjornhem,  took  us  through  the  Calvert  Wood 
to  the  Wyola  Road,  where  Mrs.  Saportas  came  galloping 
up  to  the  Master  with  the  information  that  she  had  just 
viewed,  but  her  view  proved  to  be  some  one's  pet  pussy; 
hounds  pushing  on  to  the  Darby  Creek,  and,  crossing  the 
Happy  Creek  Meadows,  ran  on  down  through  the  Old 
Mill  into  Mrs.  John  Brown's  wood,  where  poor  Lucy  was 
seen  making  desperate  efforts  to  dodge  her  blood-thirsty 
pursuers  who  were  snapping  at  her  heels.  She  managed  to 
cross  the  stream  and  gain  the  hilltop,  but  once  more  in  the 
open  the  odds  were  all  against  her,  hounds  rolling  her  over 
on  the  McGonigle  Farm,  after  about  thirty  minutes  of 
very  nice  work. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  197 

And  the  last  I  saw  of  poor  Miss  Glitters  was  the  tip  of 
her  blonde  brush  sticking  our  of  Miss  Conway's  pocket,  as 
hounds  trotted  off  in  search  of  more  sport,  and  her  mask 
dangling  from  the  dees  of  the  whipper-in's  saddle. 

Another  fox  was  put  to  earth  in  Mrs.  Brown's  lower 
drain,  and  a  third  and  more  stout-hearted  chap  gave  us 
another  fifty  minutes  from  Yarnall's  to  Mr.  Clarke's,  to 
Ardrossan,  and  back  to  Yarnall's  Hollow,  where  hounds 
were  finally  whipped  off. 

Saturday,  2gth  January,  1921 

IT  has  been  several  years  since  Radnor  hounds  have  found 
a  fox  that  would  give  us  a  gallop  across  that  beautiful 
valley  lying  to  the  west  of  Green  Briar;  and  I  never  cross 
it  without  thinking  of  dear  old  Alec  Brown,  who,  one  day 
a  long  time  ago,  had  a  bad  start  when  hounds  found  a  fox 
and  raced  away  on  a  burning  scent  without  him.  Alec  and 
the  majority  of  the  field  were  coffee-housing  and  did  n't 
know  hounds  were  running  until  we  had  crossed  the  vale 
and  hounds  had  come  to  a  moment's  check  on  the  opposite 
hillside.  On  looking  around  to  see  what  had  become  of  the 
others,  the  only  person  in  sight  was  Brown,  on  "Pebbles," 
riding  as  if  the  Devil,  himself,  was  after  him,  and  "Peb- 
bles" negotiating  the  country  in  his  best  Maryland  Hunt 
Cup  form.  Several  of  us  sat  there  on  our  horses  and 
watched  him  coming,  and  all  agreed  that  few  men  would 
have  dared  to  come  as  straight  and  as  fast  as  Alec  and 
"Pebbles"  were  doing.  I  haven't  made  much  of  a  story 
of  it;  but,  somehow,  it  made  a  deep  impression  on  me  at 
the  time,  and  the  picture  is  very  plain  before  me. 

However,  to-day,  a  fox  was  viewed  away  from  the  lower 
side  of  Delchester,  and,  crossing  the  creek  on  the  ice, 
hounds  ran  over  the  West  Chester  Pike  into  Green  Briar, 


198  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

where  Stuart's  pack  joined  us,  and,  pushing  slowly  through 
the  big  covert  to  the  west  side,  raced  away  over  that  lovely 
valley  that  Alec  Brown  crossed  so  beautifully  years  ago, 
and  checked  on  the  opposite  hillside  at  nearly  the  same 
spot  they  did  before.  On  turning  around  and  looking  back 
across  the  vale,  I  thought  of  poor  Brown;  but  the  picture  I 
saw  was  far,  far  different  from  the  one  in  which  he  had  been 
the  central  and  heroic  figure.  To-day,  there  was  a  chap 
pulling  the  top  rail  out  of  a  fence  in  one  field;  a  certain 
lady,  who  rides  astride,  was  just  greeting  Mother  Earth 
with  outstretched  arms  in  another  pasture;  and  a  gentle- 
man in  scarlet  was  having  troubles  of  his  own  with  a  refus- 
ing horse  in  another;  what  other  excitement  or  tragedies 
were  occurring,  I  had  not  time  to  see,  for  some  one  said, 
"Here  comes  Rose  Tree,"  and  from  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill  came  an  apparently  endless  mass  of  hounds.  It  was  not 
only  Rose  Tree,  but  two  other  farmer  packs  as  well,  that 
were  harking  to  the  Radnor.  The  countryside  was  alive 
with  hounds  of  all  descriptions;  and,  on  working  through  a 
wood  along  the  Street  Road,  picked  up  the  line  with  a 
burst  of  music  that  is  hardly  conceivable  to  any  one  who 
was  not  there  to  hear  it.  The  music  from  those  sixty-five 
and  a  half  couples  of  American,  near-American,  and  half- 
bred  hounds  must  have  been  sweet  to  the  spirit  of  old 
Jesse  Russell,  who  lies  buried  on  Hunting  Hill,  a  couple  of 
miles  away. 

The  pace  hounds  set  from  here  on  was  not  fast,  but  just 
fast  enough  for  'most  all  to  keep  abreast  of  the  pack  and 
thoroughly  enjoy  themselves.  Keeping  the  Street  Road 
on  their  right,  hounds  ran  straight  on  up-country,  finally 
marking  their  fox  to  earth  in  fifty-five  minutes,  on  the 
southerly  slope  of  Temple  Hill,  which  lies  halfway  between 
the  Westtown  School  and  Cheyney. 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  199 

After  separating  the  numerous  packs,  the  Rose  Tree 
field  turned  southward,  and  we  came  on  down  the  Street 
Road,  making  Fairy  Hill  our  first  draw,  after  which  most 
of  us  came  on  home;  but  hounds  found  later  in  Evans's 
meadow  and  ended  the  day  with  another  very  fast  run  of 
forty  minutes. 

Among  those  in  the  first  run  were:  Mr.  Bodine,  M.F.H., 
Radnor;  Mr.  Jeffords,  M.F.H.,  Rose  Tree;  Mrs.  Jeffords; 
William  M.  Kerr  on  a  very  nice  thoroughbred;  John  and 
Mrs.  Converse;  Randy  Snowden;  Miss  Gertrude  S.  Heck- 
scher,  on  "Saturnas";  George  Brooke  III,  on  Miss  Heck- 
scher's  "Sam  Ball";  Emanuel  Hey;  Mrs.  Bill  Rolin; 
Charlie  Harrison  on  a  pony,  and  who  came  to  grief  in  a 
brook;  Ben  Holland;  Clyde  John;  Robert  Brooke,  on 
"  Water  Wagon  ";  Henry  and  Mrs.  Collins;  Dave  and  Mrs. 
Sharp;  Harry  and  Miss  Barclay;  Frank  Lloyd;  R.  Nelson 
Buckley;  Gerry  and  Mrs.  Leiper;  Bob  and  Mrs.  Straw- 
bridge;  and  M.  Roy  Jackson. 

Thursday,  ird  February,  1921 

WHEN  we  met  at  Newtown  Square  this  afternoon  at  one- 
thirty,  and  hacked  down  that  slippery,  tar  road  to  Snake- 
house  Wood,  I  had  sort  of  a  feeling  in  my  bones  something 
was  going  to  happen  and  that  we  would  meet  Rose  Tree 
again.  We  did  meet  them,  and  from  what  I've  heard 
since,  they  apparently  were  none  too  pleased  to  see  us,  al- 
though there  was  an  armistice  signed  a  few  years  ago! 

Snakehouse  produced  a  fox  that  took  hounds  over 
Broadlawn  Farm  to  Trimble's  Hollow  Bridge,  then  up  the 
creek  to  the  Dunwoody  Home,  and,  keeping  the  Home  on 
their  left,  raced  away  over  a  beautiful  line  of  country  to- 
wards Newtown  Square  with  no  undue  excitements,  bar- 
ring good  old  "Sam  Ball"  going  down  with  his  beautiful 


200  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

pilot  at  a  low  three  rails.  Then,  just  before  reaching  the 
Square,  hounds  swung  sharply  right-handed,  and,  crossing 
the  road,  ran  through  Vauclain's  back  to  the  lower  side  of 
Snakehouse,  to  a  short  check;  this  first  burst  having  been 
twenty-eight  minutes.  Will  Leverton  made  quite  a  wide 
cast;  hounds  picked  up  the  line,  and,  carrying  it  to  the  hills 
above  the  creek,  we  were  surprised  to  see  the  Rose  Tree 
pack  coming  towards  us  in  full  cry;  but,  about  two  hun- 
dred yards  to  our  right,  or  south  of  us. 

The  two  packs  passed  each  other,  both  in  full  cry,  and 
neither  pack  hesitated  an  instant,  nor  did  any  of  their  re- 
spective following.  Rose  Tree  hounds  swung  left-handed 
towards  the  Providence  Road,  crossing  through  the  old 
Harrison  Farm;  while  the  Radnor  bore  right-handed  to 
the  Line  Road,  where  they  checked,  finally  harking  to  the 
Rose  Tree  in  Evans's  Rocks,  and  from  then  on  over  the 
Line  Road  the  combined  packs  ran  with  a  wonderful 
cry  down  Crum  Creek  to  Dr.  Jim  Hutchinson's  prop- 
erty, where  the  Rose  Tree  hounds,  sort  of  half-heartedly, 
marked  a  fox  to  ground;  but  evidently  Will  Leverton  did  n't 
think  Reynard  had  gone  under,  and,  in  making  another 
wide  cast,  hounds  spoke  and  carried  it  on  out  to  the  lower 
road,  over  the  hill  above  the  new  Springfield  reservoir, 
where  scent  became  quite  spotty  and  hounds  with  great 
difficulty  worked  along  to  near  the  Lamb  Tavern,  where 
they  gave  it  up. 

Of  course  the  question  immediately  arose  as  to  whose 
fox  it  was  that  the  combined  packs  finally  brought  down- 
country;  but  after  all  is  said  and  done  —  and  even  some  of 
the  Rose  Tree  people  agree  with  us  —  there  is  no  doubt  but 
that  the  Radnor's  hunted  fox  was  quite  a  distance  ahead  of 
hounds.  The  Rose  Tree,  in  drawing  up-country,  ran  into 
our  fox,  turned  him  back,  and  here  it  was  that  the  two 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  201 

packs  passed  in  opposite  directions;  then  our  hounds  car- 
ried on  until  they  came  to  the  spot  where  Rose  Tree  nicked 
in  on  our  fox;  then,  being  naturally  at  fault,  they  harked 
to  the  Rose  Tree,  who  were  coming  towards  them  by  this 
time,  and  from  there  on  ran  together. 

The  combined  field  was  pretty  big,  among  them  being, 
besides  the  two  masters:  Emanuel  Hey;  John  and  Mrs. 
Converse;  Miss  Gertrude  S.  Heckscher  on  "Sam  Ball"; 
R.  Nelson  Buckley;  Eddie  Dale;  Frank  Bonsai,  M.F.H., 
Harford  County;  Howard  Lewis;  E.  E.  Marshall;  Bill  and 
Mrs.  Mulford;  Miss  Ellen  Mary  Cassatt,  Mr.  Kerr,  who 
had  nine  horses  in  the  field,  Charles  Heiser,  of  Baltimore; 
Mrs.  W.  F.  Reeve;  Walter  L.  Roach;  Alex,  and  Mrs.  Sel- 
lers; Gardner  Cassatt;  Francis  V.  Lloyd;  M.  Roy  Jackson; 
Bob  and  Mrs.  Strawbridge;  Mrs.  Coleman;  Gerry  and  Mrs. 
Leiper;  Henry  Collins;  and  Mrs.  Jeffords. 

Some  of  the  numerous  questions  asked  in  and  by  the 
field  to-day,  were  — 

Where  was  foxhunting  discovered? 

Answer:  Yarnall's  Hollow. 

When  was  foxhunting  discovered? 

Answer:  1920 


N1MROD 

NIMROD  he  was  a  hunter  in  the  days  of  long  ago, 
Caring  little  for  things  of  state,  little  for  things  of  show; 
When    the    unenlightened    around    him    squabbled    for 

wealth  or  fame 
Nimrod   fled   to   the   forests   and   gave   himself  up   to 

Game. 

I  Ve  never  been  told  what  jungles  old  Nimrod  called  his 

own, 
Or  studied  the  "Sportsman's  Record"  he  scratched  on  a 

shoulder-bone; 
I  have  n't  heard  what  he  shot  with  nor  even  what  game  he 

slew, 
But  I  know  he  was  fore-forefather  to  fellows  like  me  and 

you. 

He  stood  to  the  roaring  tiger,  he  stood  to  the  charging 
gaur; 

His  was  the  love  of  the  hunting  which  is  more  than  the 
lust  of  war; 

He  knew  the  troubles  of  tracking,  the  business  of  camps 
and  kits, 

And  the  pleasure  that  pays  for  the  pain  of  all  —  the  ulti- 
mate shot  that  hits. 

Now  I've  nowhere  seen  it  stated,  but  I'm  certain  the 
thing  occurred, 


A  FOXHUNTING  JOURNAL  203 

That  when  Nimrod  came  to  his  death-bed  he  sent  his  rel- 
atives word, 

And  said  to  his  sons  and  his  people  ere  his  spirit  obtained 
release, 

"You  follow  the  trails  I  taught  you  and  your  ways  will 
bring  you  peace." 

Wherefore  —  as  now  and  to-morrow  —  when  the  souls  of 

men  were  sick, 
When  wives  were  fickle  or  fretful  or  the  bills  were  falling 

thick, 
When  the  youth  v/as  minded  to  marry  and  the  maiden 

withheld  consent, 
Heeding  the  words  of  Nimrod,  they  packed  their  spears 

and  went  — 

Went  to  the  scented  mornings,  to  the  nights  of  the  satin 

moon 
That  can  lap  the  heart  in  solace,  that  can  settle  the  soul  in 

tune; 

So  they  continued  the  remedy  Nimrod  of  old  began  — 
The  healing  hand  of  the  jungle  on  the  fevered  brow  of 

man. 

Then  —  as  now  and  to-morrow  —  mended  and  sound  and 

sane, 
Flushed  by  the  noonday  sunshine,  freshed  by  the  twilight 

rain, 
Trailing   their   trophies  behind   them,   armed  with   the 

strength  of  ten, 
Back  they  came  from  the  jungle  ready  to  start  again. 


204  RADNOR  REMINISCENCES 

Ye  who  have  travelled  the  wilderness,  ye  who  have  fol- 
lowed the  chase, 

Whom  the  voice  of  the  forest  comforts  and  the  touch  of  the 
lonely  place; 

Ye  who  are  sib  to  the  jungle  and  know  it  and  hold  it 
good  — 

Praise  ye  the  name  of  Nimrod,  a  Fellow  Who  Under- 
stood. 

H.  B.  (in  Punch) 


THE  END 


Cbr 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S   .  A 


A     000028110     5 


